


End of Ascalon

by Zenith_Lux



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Altered Primal Lore, Aymeric Centric, F/M, Heavensward Retelling, I would add more tags but spoilers, Multiple Soul Crystals, Seeker of the Sun WOL, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, lots and lots of dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenith_Lux/pseuds/Zenith_Lux
Summary: "There she stood. A god among mortals. But her heart and the souls within were something else. No one could truly see how far she had gone for those who might never know. But some are certain to try."A Savior's work is never done, and for Z'iyanna, her greatest trial has just begun. With the Scions dead or missing, and her companions desperate for answers, her only hope lies in Ishgard. But the people there are as cold as the endless snow, and Z'iyanna knows she will not last long in this war-torn world if any knew of the dreadwyrm bound to her aether.Meanwhile, under pressure by greedy Lords and stifled by the Heaven's Ward, Aymeric struggles to help those who need them the most. But when the Archbishop himself forces Aymeric to travel with the Warrior of Light, he jumps at the chance to find answers outside of Ishgard's walls. But even he is not ready for the sacrifices needed to succeed, or the pain clouding Z'iyanna's fragile heart. For the great dreadwyrm watches and waits, certain of her fall.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Bahamut/Tiamat (Final Fantasy), Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Ysayle Dangoulain & Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 24
Kudos: 64





	1. The Burning Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, End of Ascalon is finally making its way out into the world. The first few chapters were done a long time ago, but I never felt I could write it in the way it deserved. So I shelved it for... almost four years. But after finishing Blazing Tempest, I'm excited to get back to this project, as it (and another FF15 one) have been on my mind for so long. 
> 
> While this is a Heavensward retelling, there is a shift in primal/WOL lore that I wanted to explore. My wonderful Beta Reader is helping me keep the rest of the lore straight otherwise. my hope is that everyone (those who have played the game or otherwise) can enjoy it.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy! Next chapter will be posted sometime after the holiday weekend :)

_“Though the end of her arduous journey is in sight, doubt not but that the cornered primal will lash out with his unbridled rage.”_

_-The Final Coil of Bahamut_

* * *

It had been eons since Z’iyanna had left her tribe, breaking all ties in a blaze of fiery rage, never to see her godsforsaken “suitor” again. Over a year since she had learned of her connection to the Mother Crystal and Her world. Months since finding the first of the Allagan coils and the shackled beasts inside. Hours since learning that the great Archon Louisoix, the Savior of Eorzea long before she had arrived in Gridania, was bound to the creature he gave his life to defeat. And, just a few short minutes ago, she had freed him from his unwanted primal body, and leapt into the Burning Heart herself.

All of that felt like nothing compared to the time spent in the great dreadwyrm’s presence. 

Z’iyanna had thought herself ready to face him. Fueled by both Hydalen and the remnants of Louisoix' Phoenix form, she might have thought herself almost invincible. She was not naive enough to believe it would be an easy fight. Bahamut was a primal, after all. Z’iyanna, who had been absorbing primal essence since she first encountered them , understood their nature better than most. And Bahamut should have been no different, especially in this weakened state. His body was still in pieces, barely reformed after a fight that should have destroyed him. His aether was scattered, much of it dispersed in the fields of Carteneau, far away from the wyrm’s current state. The power he’d been draining from the world around him should not have been enough to sustain him.

A small part of her had hoped that she, the Warrior of Light - the only living person capable of even standing before him now - would be strong enough to handle the task. 

But the moment Z’iyanna’s soul touched his - the exact _second_ she reached the Burning Heart - she knew she had been wrong. Something felt different. For primals, while sentient to some degree, were usually fueled by the fervent prayers, boundless crystals, and cries of those that summoned them. Their emotions were driven by those wishes. While Bahamut’s rage was certainly that of his people, and far beyond her mortal comprehension, his aether felt… different. There was something more beyond that pain and misery. An actual creature with thoughts and memories… an impossible soul surrounded by a confluence of aether. 

He was alive, somehow. A resurrected dreadwyrm whose memories had breached the innermost parts of her mind and were tearing it to shreds. Z’iyanna’s extensive training and latent healing powers kept her body going. But nothing - not even the Mother Crystal herself - could keep Bahamut out of her head. 

_"You mortals are all worthless, arrogant fools!"_

She winced as a burst of fire slammed into the remnants of her shield. It cracked, but held long enough for the magic to disperse so she could jump away. Her bow was already broken, discarded somewhere in the endless space of the wyrm’s heart. Not that it had done her much good. Bahamut towered over her with thick scales of black and blue that even her strongest magic couldn’t pierce. Z’iyanna had never planned on beating him with her bow, as it was more about buying time then doing any lasting damage. But she also hadn’t counted on the mental bombardment that far surpassed any physical damage he could do. 

_“You took everything from me!"_

He slammed his foot on the ground before shooting a cone of flame at her. She barely leapt out of the way as Thyrus appeared in her hand. Before she could move, his tail smacked into her side. Z’iyanna hit the ground hard, crying out when something within her cracked. She rushed healing magic everywhere she could, but her mind was too hazy - too unfocused - to figure out what exactly had broken. 

_“And for what? So you could watch my kin suffer all over again?”_

She knew he was projecting his pain onto her. His personal servants aside, she was the only human he had likely seen in at least five years. Who else could he put the blame on? Who else reminded him of the suffering he and the other dragons had been subjected to at the hands of the Allagans? Z’iyanna herself understood that too, for she had already dealt with an unresolved Allagan threat. Honestly, she didn’t blame him. The atrocities the Allagan’s had committed for greed were inexcusable. 

_“You think you’re better than them?”_

Another blast slammed over her seconds after she mentally grabbed at her Paladin soul crystal. A flash of white light shielded her, but she felt the crystal shatter in her soul. When she tried to find it again, a roar stopped her short. The rest of her magic floated just out of reach. Something had cut off her aether, and she wasn’t certain how to get it back. 

A deep growl echoed all around her as the dreadwyrm’s voice quickly became all she could hear. _“Warrior of Light.”_ He said. _“You are nothing. No better than those you think are worthy of saving.”_

She looked up at him, surprised. “You’re hearing my thoughts.” She whispered in disbelief. Z'iyanna had assumed that their strange connection was one-way. A result of the elder primal’s overwhelming aether. She hadn’t realized that her’s had been reaching back out. But she had also never connected with a living creature such as him. Though the accuracy of that classification was still up for debate. 

_“I see everything.”_ The dreadwyrm growled. _“Your so-called friends, who you allow to use you for their own selfish gain.”_

Z’iyanna winced as she pushed herself to her feet. Bahamut was mere feet away now, looking down at her with what could only be described as “smug fury”. She was surprised he could see her at all. Maybe he couldn’t. “We help each other.” She replied.

Something akin to a cruel laugh erupted in her head. _“And yet here you are. Alone. The world’s so called last defense abandoned to die at my feet.”_

She expected him to attack her again, but he didn’t. Instead, his thoughts retreated, replaced by her own for the first time since she had entered this place. Images of Alphinaud and Alisaie, the Leveilleur twins who had taken up their grandfather’s mantel and sent Z’iyanna here in the first place. Bahamut’s wings twitched, and she felt a surge of annoyance. _“The Phoenix did what I needed him to, but he was always just a mortal.”_

“The Phoenix was created by the prayers of us mortals.” Z’iyanna said. “Just as you were from the dragons who believed in you.”

He roared again. She fell to her knees as her ears rang. Z’iyanna was surprised they weren’t bleeding. _“Do not speak of those you do not understand!"_ But even as he said it, she saw the memories of others like him in a land she didn’t recognize. Hundreds of dragons of all shapes and sizes, crying out for someone to save them. For a warrior who could defeat those who wanted them dead. A brief image of a single dragon, one as big as him with dark scales, spiny frills, and a beak-like snout was at the front of it all, standing next to a cloaked figure. _Ascian,_ Z’iyanna thought. She hadn’t seen much of their kind, but she knew of what they could do. And if they had gotten to the dragons...

 _“Enough!”_ Bahamut roared. She felt something within him lurch in response to the memories. Confusion, anger, sadness, loneliness… it all mixed together in a wave of incoherent thoughts. _“I said enough!”_

“You were their Warrior of Light.” She said. Not exactly - a dragon with a connection to the Mother Crystal was impossible - but like she had been. A savior to his people who fell all the same. 

_“Do not give me such a useless…”_

“You should be nothing but a primal.” She continued. Confusion washed over her as she managed to silence him. “But these thoughts and these memories...” A part of her wanted to reach out for him. Was it pity? No. And the way his body bristled told her he would never accept that. But she felt… something for the dreadwyrm before her. A kinship? That was as impossible as he was. 

But wasn’t she just as improbable? A Seeker of the Sun turned Warrior of Light when all she thought she could be was an outcast mage who hid in the only guild who would take her?

“But you’re more than that.” She continued. “Your soul is alive. I don’t…” More memories flooded into her. The Scions that she had fought beside since she had first defeated Ifrit so long ago. His memories of years locked in Dalamud, powering a city that wanted nothing but the dragons' destruction. An image of the female dragon from before mixed with that of one of her best companions, Haurchefant. Both were smiling, but the latter only spoke to her. 

_“I’ll see you soon, when this is all over. And I can’t wait to hear this new tale of yours.”_

Z’iyanna had promised him she would return. There was still much to be done between Ishgard and the other city states. They all needed her there. They needed her to survive. 

Bahamut swept backwards, drawing in orange aether from all directions. Air ripped from Z’iyanna’s lungs. _“You are nothing to me!”_

A flicker of Bahamut’s memories returned, the same dragon from before. “My beloved.” Her voice held a reverence that almost surprised Z’iyanna. But there was anguish too. “I failed you…” The dragon sobbed, but shed no tears. She wasn’t certain if dragons were incapable of such a thing or if Bahamut simply didn’t remember it. “Come back to me.”

Bahamut faltered. The aether flickered. Z’iyanna reached for the closest summon she could find. His fury consumed them both. _“You will torture me no longer!”_ His voice echoed in her mind. _“I will melt your flesh and tear that fragile aether of yours asunder!”_ His wings extended. The moment of hesitation passed as more aether swarmed into his mouth. _“Be gone, you pitiful Warrior of Light.”_ His head snapped forward. She screamed as her vision swam with fire, consuming her body and burning it down to her very core. She collapsed, reaching for any strength she had left. All she found was a dying soul, her very aether slipping away as she stared at the endless skies of Bahamut’s reforming heart. 

A shrill cry echoed around her. Bahmut's head snapped up toward something beyond her sight. _“Impossible.”_ Golden feathers fell out of the sky. One landed on her chest, and air surged back into her lungs. Her vision snapped back into focus, but her body remained still and exhausted. “ _Louisoix_?” She thought. The Phoenix swooped over her and slammed into Bahamut’s chest. The dreadwyrm crumbled, pressing one hand to the floor to keep himself from collapsing entirely. Phoenix reappeared and spun above her. His flames swept through her. Magic flooded into her, repairing her aether and restoring her soul crystals. She pushed herself to her feet, weary as she kept Thyrus in hand. Bahamut pushed himself back up, but his gaze was trained on the Phoenix between them. 

“Look closer.” Louisoix said. “See the impossible.” 

She felt inexplicable aether seep into her eyes. The echo? How could Louisoix - as the Phoenix, no less - tap into her echo? It felt different, and Z’iyanna wondered if he would have consumed her had she not possesed the Light’s blessing. But there was no time to ponder it, as she saw the fractured purple crystal in Bahamut’s chest. 

_A soul?_

“I was his conduit.” Louisoix said. “The Phoenix can revive every soul, even those lost in the aether.”

Bahamut roared again, but made no move to attack. His emotions were as conflicted as hers, but all she could do was stare at that crystal. Could her magic reach it like it could the aether of the other primals? She had to defeat them in combat, but he was different. Maybe she could contain him. Not back in Dalamud or the coils, but in a much stronger vessel, one that would allow him to experience the world anew. 

She held her hand out, shoving away all of the fear and anxiety that had begun to creep into her mind. The light from Thyrus shifted in her hand before shooting out in a line straight at Bahamut’s soul. The dragon roared as purple light snapped back toward her. He swiped at Phoenix, but the bird dodged and shot flames at Bahamut’s feet. The purple light surged back as her own touched his soul. The reaction was instant. In that second, she felt everything he did. Centuries of rage and hopeless despair. Memories of his death and of the chains that had contained him for so long. Tears rolled down Z’iyanna’s cheeks. These were emotions she understood, but stronger than any she had ever felt herself. 

“I can help you.” She said.

 _“Your words mean nothing to me."_ She flinched, realizing for the first time that his language was one she shouldn’t have been able to understand. Their souls were connected, but he was rejecting her. If she couldn’t convince him to let go, she would die. If she died, another Calamity was all but assured. 

“There are many horrible people in this world.” Z’iyanna said. “I would be a fool to try and convince you otherwise.” She tried to push her own memories back into him. Lahabrea who nearly forced her to kill another Scion. The Garleans who cared little for any life beyond their own. Eorzeans who fought for land so fervently that they terrified the beast tribes into calling on their own gods, all of which Z’iyanna had destroyed. The Allagans who nearly plunged the world into the void. The last one clearly struck a chord, as his roar turned into a terrible screech. 

“But there are also those capable of good, too.” She pushed past his rage again and shared even more of her memories. The scions, smiling and laughing together on the few nights they got to themselves. The healers, Summoners, and rogues she had grown close to. The paladins she had fought beside and the bard who wanted to tell her story. Haurchefant waiting in Coerthas. Even Ser Aymeric, who was one of her newest allies.

She was running out of time.

 _“You are all the same.”_ The dreadwyrm said. _“You think a few years with you will change my mind? You only delay the inevitable.”_

“I’m offering you a chance.” Z’iyanna said. “To live again.” Her heart was slamming so hard against her chest that she thought her ribs might break. Her head was swimming with pain, and she knew she would pass out if this continued much longer. “I will show you that this world is worth saving.”

 _“You will fail, mortal.”_ Bahamut said. _“And when you do, I will be there to finish what your kind started.”_

The purple of his soul swirled around her white light. Both snapped back to her. She collapsed on the ground as aether of all kinds flooded into her body. The Phoenix landed beside her as more feathers flickered into view. “Stand strong, Warrior of Light.” He said. “If anyone can withstand this trial, it is you.”

His quiet cry echoed around her as she plunged into darkness, Bahamut’s aether pulsing somewhere within her. _Thank you, Louisoix._ She thought. _Now I can keep my promise._

The dragon growled, but said nothing as her consciousness slipped away.


	2. Before the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Aymeric contends with the Lords of Ishgard, Z'iyanna wakes up in Coerthas with welcome news from Haurchefant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone!
> 
> Just a quick note here as I have had a few questions about it: no I will not be following the Heavensward storyline to perfection. My plan is to follow the groundwork of the story, but weave in mentions of other quests (such as the Dragoon quest, while Z'iyanna herself is not one), and let the story proceed naturally on its own. Don't worry, though. I won't be missing anything important :)
> 
> Also! If you want to follow me on Twitter [@LuxZenith](https://twitter.com/LuxZenith), I like to post screenshots with my various chapters, so you'll get those (hopefully cool?) illustrations of the chapters to come!
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll see ya'll soon ^_^7

_In times of trouble, there are few things more precious than unconditional support._

* * *

Deep in the city of Ishgard, somewhere in the shadow of the towering Vault where Archbishop Thordan VII and the Heavensward remained, separate from the people, Aymeric was seconds from strangling the man pacing before him. If he were a drinker - gods forbid - he would have already left this office, hidden in the Forgotten Knight, and moped long enough to make himself feel better. 

But Aymeric was a sensible man who wouldn’t leave this office unless a dragon itself slammed through the walls and carried him away. At least, not until this man was dealt with. 

On the outside, he hoped he looked calmer than he felt. His armor felt tighter than usual, given how he’d been sitting in it for hours fielding silly questions from Lord after Lord that he’d been unable (or, more accurately, unallowed) to dismiss. After all of that, he was still left with Auseleix pacing around the office like a man consumed by madness. The man, now referred to as the house speaker and third in command to the Lord Commander, had been promoted for reasons Aymeric would never know. So, Aymeric could do nothing but listen. Impatient but quiet, as anything else would be scandalous. No matter the strength he showed or the title he had grown into, he was still the bastard son of the much revered Archbishop. keeping the peace meant listening to every absurd case that came to his doorstep.

Regardless, Auseleix was oblivious to how close he was to demolishing Aymeric’s cracking wall of serenity. 

“The dragons are coming, Ser Aymeric,” Auseleix proclaimed for what felt like the hundredth time this conversation. Aymeric ignored the obvious show of disrespect.- There were only a handful of people outside of his personal guard who called him Lord Commander anymore. Fighting it took too much energy to bother. Aymeric tried to focus on the argument. Why do the soldiers need new weapons every week when homes in the Brume continue to crumble? The dragons are coming. Why do we need to send the most inexperienced troops into the depths of the snowy wilderness where they are more likely to die of frostbite than find something important? The dragons are coming. On and on and on. A part of Aymeric wished he could simply strike anyone incapable of formulating a better argument and be done with it.

But he was the Lord Commander. Even if his lineage was as pure as the men who argued with him, such acts of violence would be improper. He also had very little energy left to give.

“You would have me send half of our city’s defenses to obscure towns and useless posts less than a month since a dragon stormed our gates, and that’s the only justification you can give me?” Aymeric kept his voice even, but made no effort to hide his annoyance. 

Auseleix flinched but held his ground. “What more do you need?” 

Aymeric held back a sigh. Auseleix was new to the temple knights. The son of some Lord who had earned Thordan’s favor. He had been placed as the unprecedented third in command to Aymeric. He might have been his second, but Lucia trumped the scrawny Elezen in every way. Maybe that was why he was so desperate to make a move. He’d been beaten senseless - by an outsider, no less - and had to work under someone he had little respect for. Aymeric could end the war single-handedly and people like Auseleix would still hate him. 

At least that feeling was mutual.

“All of these _useless_ posts have been specifically targeted in the past.” Auseleix continued. “If we want any chance to secure new land and create new homes for the refugees of this war, we must act now.”

“Ignoring the fact that every post you’ve mentioned has been abandoned for almost fifteen years,” Aymeric said. “If you truly cared for the wellbeing of our people, you would focus your efforts on the Brume.” The “lower-class” area as many of the Lord’s called it was something Aymeric had fought to rebuild for years. The Firmament, in particular, contained acres of untapped land for ideal for new development. There were plenty of skilled crafters in Ishgard who could assist in this undertaking, and it would be a step towards fixing the economic disparity plaguing Ishgard. Only a single Lord listened to his suggestions, and he was not enough to get the project underway. 

“Besides,” Aymeric continued. “Our soldiers are more likely to die to heretics on the way there.” Auseleix scowled, but didn’t disagree. Those who worshiped Lady Iceheart and her mission were arguably just as dangerous as the dragons. Ishgard had plenty of capable dragoons, and dragons could hardly sneak into the city undetected. But the heretics were a different story. They gathered recruits from within. The downtrodden and the desperate flocked to the promise of safety, freedom, and power. 

Even ignoring the real danger posed by the heretics; Lady Iceheart’s ability to become the primal Shiva meant that anyone not possessing the Blessing of Light would be tempered by her aether in a heartbeat. Of course, very few people believed that. Auseleix was likely among those that didn’t. Now, he was now glaring at Aymeric with so much vitriol that the Lord Commander was half-surprised he didn’t simply die on the spot. “Everything about your plan is a risk in more ways than you can imagine.”

“We have to act.”

“We have to protect our people.”

Auseleix was seething now. Again, Aymeric forced himself to remain calm. It wasn’t unusual for nobles like Auseleix to feel that they had to prove something, usually to themselves. But the proposition was unreasonable and he was certain that both of them knew it. It didn’t change the fact that others continued to demand similar plans with very little room for disagreement. Aymeric knew how to ignore politics and focus on Ishgard. Auseleix was less prepared and more gullible. 

“Lord Commander.”

Aymeric glanced at the door as a young guard stepped in, one arm across his chest. He was shaking, clearly nervous, but held eye contact with perfect respect. While Aymeric was impressed, Auseleix was furious.

“You are interrupting a very important conversation, boy.” He snapped. “Whatever you want to say to Ser Aymeric can…”

“Enough.” Aymeric said as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the cracking in his bones. (By the Fury had he not moved from his chair all day?) He smiled, encouraging the boy to relax. “How can I help?”

“Count Edmont wishes to speak to you in private.”

That caught him off guard. While all of the Lords sent messengers to speak with him, it was usually to exchange letters or plan future meetings. Even Count Edmont, who was Aymeric’s strongest ally by far, had only come to his office twice before. “Is he waiting?” The soldier nodded. “Then I request that you escort Ser Auseleix to his quarters and tell Count Edmont he is welcome to enter.”

“Ser Aymeric…” Auseleix insisted. 

“That is an order.” Aymeric said sharply. Auseleix swore under his breath and stormed out of the office. The boy jumped when the other Elezen slammed the door behind him. “If you need any help dealing with him,” Aymeric said. “Tell Lucia that he’s acting up again.” The boy looked startled at the request, but smiled back and saluted a second time before leaving in a much more dignified manner. 

Aymeric was only alone for a moment before Count Edmont entered. “Lord Commander.”The elder Elezen bowed, cane resting in his other hand. His skin was paler than Aymeric remembered, though it may have been contrasted by the dark, red and black coat he had taken to wearing over the last few weeks. His black hair was longer than Aymeric’s and slicked back behind his long, pointed ears. His mustache twitched as he smiled. “I’d say by the muttering of your newest recruit that my visit is well-timed.”

“Couldn’t have been any better,” Aymeric said. “Though I’ll admit that it is quite unexpected.”

“I am here on behalf of my son and his companions.”

“Haurchefant?” Aymeric said. 

Edmont nodded as he pulled a letter out of his jacket. “I received this request from him recently, and knew that you were the only one I could speak with on the matter, given such short notice.” Aymeric took the letter surprised to see the official Fortemps seal. Odd for Haurchefant, who usually used the sigil of the Temple Knights. “That is the second letter,” Edmont said. “I was asked to leave it sealed to ensure no one would question its validity.”

“It must be of the utmost importance.”

“My son hopes that I can provide refuge to the Warrior of Light and her two surviving companions, Alphinaud Leveilleur and Tataru Taru.”

Aymeric’s eyes snapped up from her letter. “Surviving?”

Edmont nodded. “You were in Ul’dah two weeks ago, yes?”

“I was escorted out rather quickly.” He had seen Z’iyanna dragged in by some members of the Brass Blades, but he’d been practically dragged out before hearing why. He’d tried to stay, but Z’iyanna had nodded him away, confident as ever. Clearly, she had misjudged the situation.

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been charged with high treason and conspiracy following the death of the Sultana, Nanamo Ul Namo.”

“Treason?” That was preposterous. The Scions had always been defenders of Eorzea. Z’iyanna had fought primal after primal and had even come to the defense of Ishgard when the dragons attempted to break through the gate. The idea that any of them would turn on the people they had fought so hard to protect was absurd. 

“Z’iyanna has been charged with her murder.”

Aymeric’s breath slipped away as if he had been punched in the stomach. “By who?” Although his interactions with Z’iyanna had been relatively sparse, he had heard nothing but praise from Haurchefant every time he spoke of her. Never once had Aymeric believed she was capable of cold-blooded murder. 

“Haurchefant is convinced of her innocence.” Edmont said. “And, while I know very little of the situation, I respect my son’s conviction. The Warrior of Light has always been an ally and, considering the loss of the other Scions as well as the convenient take over by the Crystal Braves…” Edmont cleared his throat. “My son knows a lot more about this than I do.”

“Where are they now?”

“Camp Dragonhead, but she will not be safe there for much longer.”

“Would they attempt an invasion just for her?”

“I don’t believe so,” Edmont said. “I’m more concerned about her well being.”

“She shouldn’t be confined,” Aymeric said.

“She needs a purpose,” Edmont said. “We are lucky that she and the others survived at all.”

“What do you propose?”

“With your blessing, I wish to open the gates temporarily to allow access for our three refugees, and I will bring them in as wards of House Fortemps. Haurchefant agrees to take any and all responsibility for their actions while in Ishgard.”

“The Heavensward will not be happy.”

“That is why I came to you,” Edmont said with a quiet sigh. “But I apologize in advance for the trouble it will cause.”

Aymeric could pass the order without consulting the Heavensward or the Archbishop, but they would certainly confront him about it later. However, he would rather get her to safety than spend months fighting through the endless politics that were more likely to keep her out. “It will do our city some good to have the Warrior of Light around.” He said.

“She is not a bringer of peace.”

“Even if she was,” Aymeric said. “I doubt many people would listen to her anyway.”

“You have dealt with the other Lords well,” Edmont said. “Whether they agree with you or not.”

Aymeric sighed. Count Edmont was a powerful man and easily a couple of decades older than Aymeric. No matter how much he had studied the books or been on the front lines, his experience with the politics of nobles and their stubbornness was like a candle before the bonfire of Count Edmont’s knowledge. And they trusted each other. Something that could not be said about most of the people who came to him. “They want me to send our troops on suicide missions,” he said. “And no matter how many times I refuse, they keep coming back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were ignorant of what they ask of me.”

“It would be a victory for them either way,” Edmont said. “If you agree to the plan and it fails, or disagree and the enemy attacks, you take the blame regardless. If nothing happens, they can keep arguing amongst themselves and continue to waste your time.” 

“Auseleix is not taking it well.”

“He wants to prove himself.”

“Appeasing the Lords is not the way to do it.”

“And he will learn that.”

“When?” Aymeric said rubbing his forehead. “After he crumbles under the stress and gets our people killed?”

“They are not their people, Lord Commander,” Edmont said. “The Lords, their advisors, and even the Heavensward will not care for their deaths. Be diligent.” He bowed. “With your permission and Halone’s blessing, I would like to begin preparations for our new arrivals.”

“Granted,” Aymeric said as he sat back at his desk and reached for a quill. “I will send Lucia by with an official letter this afternoon.”

“And I will inform you when Z’iyanna feels well enough to visit.”

Aymeric looked up from his desk, pen frozen over the pages. “Why would she want to see me.”

Edmont chuckled. “I expect to hear from you soon.”

* * *

“Run, Iya! You must escape!”

“We’ll take care of them.”

Z’iyanna watched as the ceiling caved in behind her, burying two of her friends and trapping the others. She wanted to scream. Wanted to run back and save them. She wanted to do anything, really. But all she could do was stare at the mess as another hand dragged her away.

“I can save them all.”

Minfillia had left her there too. Just like all of the others.

“You are Eorzea’s only hope.”

She felt a pair of hands grab her wrists. She fought back in a panic as everything went dark. She couldn’t see where she was going, who she was fighting, or even how she would escape. All she could hear was the deep, amused voice of the dragon who was watching it all. 

_I told you, mortal. You are all the same._

“Iya!”

Her eyes snapped open as she jolted upright. The man holding her wrists dodged to the right as she nearly knocked him out with her forehead. “Remind me not to startle you ever again,” Haurchefant said. Although he was smiling, Z’iyanna could see the concern in the Elezen’s normally calm features His gray hair was swept over the top of his eyes and layered in the back a few inches from his shoulders. He was wearing his armor - gray chainmail with golden metal pieces for extra protection. His gloves were on the floor, and he had yet to let go of her wrists. Z’iyanna didn’t pull away, focusing on him instead. He was here. She was alive. Taking a deep breath, she repeated that over and over until she believed it. And he waited, the only one who ever could. 

After a few quiet moments, Z’iyanna met his gaze. His smile widened as relief flooded his face and he let go. “Between you and your companion, I’m shocked I still have all of my teeth.”

“Is Twin okay?”

“As far as I can tell.” He said as he sat back on the bed. “I gave her some meat this morning. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t try to eat me this time, so I’d say our relationship is improving.”

Z’iyanna rubbed her eyes with a small laugh. “She likes you.”

“I’m glad.” He said as he reached for his gloves. “My apologies for intruding. You sounded very upset, and I was worried someone may have broken in.”

Z’iyanna’s fluffy ears twitched as she yawned. “That wouldn’t have ended well for them.” She said as she pulled her braided hair out in front of her shoulder. Her dark purple hair was a frizzy mess. With all of this running around, very short naps, and nightmares, she hadn’t had any time to take care of herself. She sighed as she poked at the usually white ends of her hair, both excited and terrified to finally clean it. A quick glance at her tail told her that it too needed some extra attention. It looked about as lifeless as she felt. A pity considering how poofy it usually was. “Did I wake you?”

“Of course not.” He said. “I would be a very poor excuse for a knight if I wasn’t up before the sun.”

Z’iyanna snorted, but couldn’t help but smile back. Of all of her companions, Haurchefant was the best at calming her down. He’d become a close friend over the last few months, accompanying her on many missions he probably shouldn’t have when the other scions were busy. He was the only one outside of the Levilleur twins that knew the truth of the coils, and continued to guard her secret with his life. The whole mess in Ul’dah, while crippling for the Scions, had reinforced Haurchefant’s dedication to her cause. And Z’iyanan was grateful, and not just because he was the only man who the world who could brave the night terrors of the Eikon-slayer while feeding her pet dragon without getting eaten himself.

“The water is finally ready.” He said. “I wish it hadn’t taken so long.”

“Do you need anything from me?”

“Enjoy a nice bath.” He said as he pointed to a pile of clothes on the otherwise empty desk in the corner of the room. “I ordered some new clothes for you based on Tataru’s measurements, and they will be waiting for you in Ishgard.”

Z’iyanna glanced at her hand. A faint image of her white mage soul crystal flickered within it. There were three others, buried in her mind. She could snap between them in an instant, even going as far to pull separate clothes and weapons out of the aether itself. After the fight in Ul’dah, however, she’d come to find out through some rather embarrassing circumstances with Tataru and a wandering Alphinaud that her other crystals had nothing but her weapons and terribly skimpy underclothes. A mistake on her part, as they only disappeared when she was stressed and too distracted to maintain their aether. 

She closed her hand, and the crystal vanished. “Healer it is then.”

“I’m almost done polishing Thyrus.” Haurchefant said with pride. “And I’d say it looks fantastic.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “Nothing less than perfection for the Warrior of Light.”

She shook her head, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“We are leaving tomorrow at dawn.” He said. Z’iyanna had been to the gates of Ishgard a month ago when she, Haurchefant, and some woefully unprepared knights had fought off the dragon Vishap just moments before he and his horde break through the gates leading into the city. She had been praised for her heroism then, and the Lord Commander and come to Ul’dah himself in a push for a real and unprecedented alliance between Ishgard and the rest of Eorzea. 

Then the Scions had been betrayed and everything was back to square one.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

Guilt struck her heart. She hadn’t meant to ignore him. “I…”

“You’re tired.” He said with a small shake of his head. “If you need anything, talk to one of the guards and they’ll come find me. For now, I’m going to attempt to transport a dragon into Ishgard without getting anyone or anything killed in the process.”

“Good luck.”

He laughed. “I’m probably going to need it.”


	3. The Gates of Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Z'iyanna prepares for her journey into Ishgard, she must first comfort an unusual acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Chapter 2! The last "introductory" chapter I suppose.
> 
> Next chapter is when things start to go a little off the rails :D
> 
> Enjoy!

_“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, once proclaimed the saviors of Eorzea, are now condemned as murderers- betrayed by the Crystal Braves and forced to flee the banquet held to celebrate the very victory they helped to bring about.”_

_-Coming to Ishgard_

* * *

Z’iyanna hadn’t meant to spend as much time in the bath as she did. Warm water was a commodity in Coerthas since heating up a cauldron for everyone who stepped foot within took hours, at least. Most visitors demanded to be taken care of first, often leaving the knights without. But Z’iyanna, who both understood their plight and had been struggling with oversleeping anyway, pushed Haurchefant to give “her water” to them instead. And while he didn’t tell her outright, the mood in Camp Dragonhead had improved significantly. 

But Z’iyanna and her companions had to look their best when entering Ishgard. While they had been approved by the Lord Commander himself, they were wards of Count Edmont de Fortemps, one of the four main houses of Ishgard. Z’iyanna knew how unprecedented their temporary stay in Ishgard already was. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass him. 

Besides, she took pride in her appearance, as it wasn’t often that she wasn’t forced into some twelves-forsaken battle that would damage all of her clothing or ruin her fur. 

Her time in the bath also gave her the first real chance she’d had to reflect on everything that she would soon be dealing with. This would most likely be her last day for a long time on this side of the Coerthan gate, and Z’iyanna had no information on where the other Scions had gone. With her branded as a traitor and her friendship with Haurchefant obvious to anyone that knew her- friend or otherwise - getting information to and from the cities was nearly impossible. Things would be easier once she reached Ishgard. She still had plenty of allies and a letter with an Ishgardian seal that wouldn’t be ignored. 

But Nanamo…

_How did I not notice?_

Z’iyanna wished the Echo worked on other people. She could see a thousand different possibilities for herself, including hundreds of different ways she could die in combat, in the blink of an eye. And while she could sometimes see people’s pasts - usually without warning - she’d never glimpsed someone’s future. Z’iyanna never could have sensed the poison in Nanamo’s cup. And, no matter how hard she tried or how many nightmares she experienced, the image of the Sultana, slipping from her chair… her body hitting the floor as she took her last breath…

A low hum echoed in her head as a small, off-green black dragon materialized on the edge of the tub. “You really believe you will find safety in Ishgard?” Midgardsormr - or Midgar as she had affectionately begun calling him simply because he didn’t like it - was what she referred to as her replacement for the Mother Crystal. After she had fought his spirit months ago, Midgar had changed. The all-powerful elder dragon - the progenitor of every other dragon in this world - now occupied the body of a tiny dragonet. Z’iyanna was amused by his current situation, though not out of malice. They had developed this relationship after he nullified her blessing of light as a test to “challenge her resolve”. Hearing his booming voice in such a small body always made her smile. Of course, he hated that too, but had long since given up chastising her for it. 

“No, actually.” She said as she pulled herself out of the tub and reached for the fluffiest towel. She still remembered the months after joining with Bahamut when she had been embarrassed by private moments like this with the knowledge that something was always watching. By the time Midgar joined her, Z’iyanna had long gotten over that unwarranted embarrassment. “I’m well aware that I’m wandering into a war zone with an ancient dragon in my head, one lingering in my aether, another who wants to devour me, and a prominent target on my back for simply existing.” She dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around herself before tending to her hair. “I am many things, Midgar. Naive is not one of them.”

He exhaled a puff of blue flame. “I am inclined to disagree.”

“You would call the great Archon Louisoux naive if given the opportunity.”

“You are but a stumbling babe compared to him.”

She sighed. “And you’re not helping.” 

If the dragon could shrug, Z’iyanna was certain he would have. “Her blessing was too much of a crutch.”

“A damn good one at that,” Z’iyanna said as she finally pulled the last tangle out of her hair. It wasn’t anywhere near dry enough, but she didn’t have the luxury of time to wait. Instead, she used a few thin ribbons to tie it up into a tight bun, hiding them underneath her hair. Despite the practicality, she couldn’t help but grimace in the mirror. She never liked pulling her hair back like this. Not only did it look awkward around her ears, but she felt stifled. If it weren’t for her heart-shaped face, dainty chin, and her purple hair she might be able to pass herself off as Alphinaud. Even her bangs looked out of place, drawing attention to her bicolored eyes. One iris was pale pink and the other green, a trait she hadn’t grown out of, unlike the rest of her kind. Her hair was an unnaturally dark purple, courtesy of Bahamut. Her beautiful bronze skin was one of the few gifts she had inherited from her tribe. The dark, claw-shaped birthmarks on both of her cheeks were on full display, though she wasn’t as bothered by those. And as she fastened her temporary robe, a large, floor-length piece, Z’iyanna thought she looked old; a woman resigned to her fate meant to live out her days working as some cleric in isolation.

But Z’iyanna had already gone through that part of her life, and she wasn’t keen on reliving it again.

“I’m going to speak to Twin before we leave.” She said as she brushed out her tail. That would have to dry before she left, and Z’iyanna doubted she could make it look presentable before meeting Count De Fortemps. 

“You worry about unimportant details,” Midgar said. 

“And you get to hide whenever we meet new people,” Z’iyanna said as she wandered back into her room. The curtains were drawn, revealing the soundless snow as it fell endlessly from the heavens. She could hear the soft clinking of armor as knights patrolled the courtyard below, accompanied by the distant kwehs of chocobos, no doubt excited for breakfast. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, but there was no fog to obscure it today. Everything was calm. Z’iyanna almost wished it could stay like this forever. 

“Your servant is waiting,” Midgar said.

She glared at him. “He’s not my _servant_.”

Midgar grunted. “Very well. That silver-haired boy that stands outside your door far more frequently than a typical guard is expected to, and whom you trust enough with a key to your room to wake you from your own nightmares.”

“His name is Haurchefant,” she said. “And he is the reason we are allowed to enter Ishgard at all.” Granted, there had been quite a few others involved in her escape. But Haurchefant had hidden her and her two other companions from suspicious guard patrols for weeks, all while securing passage into a city whose distrust of outsiders was nearly as fervent as their hatred of dragons.

“Names are meaningless to me.”

“Excluding your own.” 

This time, he scoffed with an air of superiority, “You would do well to show more respect, _girl_.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Z’iyanna said with a light shrug. As antagonistic as the dragon seemed, she liked to think they got along. He was always around, even when unseen. He watched her every move, if only to criticize the decisions she made. He would gladly watch her fail time and again, then promptly scold her for handling a situation so poorly. He was insufferable at times. 

“I will leave you to contemplate that for now,” Midgar said, disappearing into a small ball of aetheric energy. He did that often too; vanishing without much hesitation. Z’iyanna wasn’t sure if it was out of boredom, or if he was being courteous. Regardless, the moment his voice quieted, all she could do was stare at herself in the mirror and sigh. The robe looked good, but it was uncomfortable. The fur scratched at her skin, her tail was cramped underneath the fabric, and it didn’t fit quite right. But she was grateful that she had it at all. There weren’t many mages like her at Dragonhead. 

Haurchefant’s true goal, however, had been accomplished. Z’iyanna looked like the paragon of light that brought hope wherever she went and took down primals in the blink of an eye. Inside, however, she felt more powerless than ever. A shadow of her former self with no access to Hydaelyn or her blessing, and no idea if she would ever be in that light’s grace again.

 _“Are you surprised?”_ A disinterested voice rumbled in her head. _“Perhaps your goddess has figured out what I already know.”_

Z’iyanna’s ears twitched, but she ignored him as she moved to the windowsill and opened a small, unassuming brown box. Inside was an intricately crafted bracelet made to look like silver. Its actual properties, however, were much more complicated than that. A combination of aether, alchemical mixtures, and metals that had yet to be named. It looked exquisite, as the man that crafted it took great pride in his work, despite his complaints. But it was the five crystals inside that shimmered the most. Green, Red, Yellow, Blue, and Purple; one gem per primal slain. 

Her mind drifted as she fastened it to her wrist, ensuring it hid beneath the sleeve of her robe. Z’iyanna had always been “aether sensitive”. Even as a child, healing the sick or patching up wounds with spells had been simple. It was what allowed her to use the White Mage soul crystal without any connection to the Padjal. That same sensitivity, however, had never translated well to Black Magic. Smaller spells weren’t an issue, but the larger ones were beyond her reach. No one had ever been able to tell her why. Even traditional summoning was impossible to her. She had only succeeded in conjuring a single carbuncle, and even then she was unable to control it.

As capable of a healer as Z’iyanna was, she still wanted more. It was why she had picked up the bow in Gridania, later becoming a bard when she found a second soul crystal. And when her travels took her beyond the woods, she had trained with daggers in Limsa alongside rogues with hearts of gold. In Ul’dah, she had discovered a Paladin soul crystal and learned to wield a sword and shield. 

None of this had prepared her for the first primal she fought. Hydaelyn’s blessing had protected her from being tempered, and the fight with Ifrit had been difficult, but in the end, she succeeded. But his aether had poured into her then. The wishes of his people and their cries for help. It would have consumed her if she had not been taken to Y’shtola’s sister. Y’mhitra had been both amazed and perplexed, for Z’iyanna was not a summoner. The crystal rejected her, as did the carbuncles. But the primal’s power was still there, simmering endlessly. Eventually, after investing a lot of Gil, hard labor, and after procuring the services of a grumpy forgemaster, this bracelet had been made to contain it and continued to do so with every primal she fought. 

Bahamut had been different. He was not a well of power that needed to be channeled, but a soul that existed alongside her own. Z’iyanna drew on his powers from time to time, as even the dreadwyrm had no interest in dying before he had proven his point. They weren’t friends. Not even after two years. But she knew he was always there. Watching. Waiting. For what exactly, she didn’t know, as the situation in Ul’dah should have proven his point. And yet he remained. It was possible that Midgar’s presence held Bahamut back, as the elder wyrm’s existence demanded respect from his kin. A soulbound Bahamut was no exception.

 _“You are still fighting.”_ His voice said. _“My message has not yet been understood, mortal.”_

Z’iyanna gazed up at the sky. “Fighting is what I do.” She said. _It’s all I do._

The dreadwyrm growled at that, but said nothing more. 

* * *

Less than an hour later, as Z’iyanna triple checked the last of her few personal belongings, a knock at the door drew her attention. “Lady Z’iyanna?” A nervous voice echoed from outside. 

“Yes?”

“Lord Haurchefant sent me. He says he needs help with a voidsent problem that only you can handle.”

Z’iyanna almost chuckled. Considering the fear in the man’s voice, he likely thought this was a matter of life and death. “Have you told anyone else?”

“He said not to.”

“Good.” She said. “Don’t worry. I will take care of it.”

She heard the clinking of his armor, likely the Ishgardian salute, before he walked away. Instead of following him, Z’iyanna pulled open the window and glanced down at the snow beneath her. After checking that the guards had moved from their posts, she slipped out the window, landed with a quiet thump, and took off. Everyone in Camp Dragonhead had strict orders to stay away from the cave past Witch’s Drop, or risk perishing at the hands of “monsters of the void”. No one but Tataru and Alphinaud knew that Z’iyanna and Haurchefant had long since defeated the beasts inside. But it was for the best, for the actual creature there was much more deadly to those she didn’t know. Especially when she was upset. 

And Z’iyanna had no doubt that Twintania was far past upset. She could practically feel the dragon’s annoyance radiating well beyond the neurolink’s normal range. The second Twin could feel Z’iyanna’s mind, she knew. _“It’s about time.”_ Twin’s feminine voice resounded in her mind as loudly as an explosion next to her ear. It had taken Z’iyanna many moons to get used to the sudden intrusions, but Bahamut’s neverending complaints and Midgar’s unsolicited interruptions had made Twin’s contributions tolerable. Though she still managed to catch her off guard if they did not speak for too long. _“This simpleton’s idea of a good meal is severely lacking.”_

“Be nice.” Z’iyanna thought. “Haurchefant has done what he can.”

Twin growled back, but it wasn’t a threat. _“I will continue to tolerate him, but only because you would be unhappy if I did not.”_

“I appreciate it.”

Z’iyanna slowed as she reached the entrance to the cave where Haurchefant waited. Their eyes met, and he gave her the most genuine smile of the day. But his cheerfulness was infectious, and she couldn’t help but grin back. “Glad you could make it.” He said before holding out a long, white and gold staff she hadn’t noticed him holding. Thyrus, her most trusted cane. It had a four-winged design encrusted with a red gem that shined brighter than ever. “I told you I would take care of it,” Haurchefant said with a wink. 

Z’iyanna took it from him. The second it touched her hand, white light erupted from within, covering the entirety of the staff. Two, large chains made of light circled between the wings at the top. Magic flowed through her as the staff welcomed its master, soothing her thoughts and _finally_ calming her anxious heart. “Thank you.” She said as she attached it to the straps on the back of her robe. The light vanished as it returned to its slumber. “Now I heard you have a stubborn _voidsent_ on your hands.”

 _“I am not stubborn.”_ Twin huffed. 

“I probably deserve it.” Haurchefant said. “I’m afraid I’m not the best of company.”

Z’iyanna rolled her eyes. “No one is to her.” She crossed her arms with a pointed glare into the darkness of the cave. “But she hasn’t tried to eat you, so she likes you at least a little bit.”

Haurchefant chuckled. “I’m honored.”

 _“He will not let me go with you.”_ Twin said. 

Z’iyanna had anticipated this reaction, though she had hoped to hear it from Haurchefant first. He could handle things calmly unlike the furious dragon in her head. “We expected this.” She said aloud, hoping Haurchefant could guess what they were talking about. “Getting me through the gates was challenging enough. They’d burn us alive if I waltzed in with you.”

 _“You defeated Bahamut.”_ Twin said. _“And a few guards don’t scare me.”_

Z’iyanna sighed. “We need them on our side.” She didn’t really care about the masses, as Z’iyanna didn’t think she would sway their opinions whether she tried or not. But the last thing she wanted was to force Aymeric’s hand. She needed his help likely more than anyone, and forcing him to choose between her and his people would never end well. 

“There is an option, though,” Haurchefant said. “There’s a place in the Dravanian Forelands called Anyx Trine where many dragons live in relative peace. No one dares approach it, much less bother the creatures who live there. As long as she can fly high enough over the Western Highlands, she’ll make it without anyone noticing, and we can plan a reunion when you are able to leave the city.”

 _“Absolutely not.”_ Twin growled. 

“It’s our only choice, Twin.”

_“The last time I left you alone you nearly died, little one.”_

“There’s no other way.”

_“You will go with me, then. You do not need this city.”_

Z’iyanna resisted the urge to growl. Twin was intelligent, but her mind often didn’t understand or didn’t care about complex human issues and politics. If it wasn’t a straightforward solution, Twin wasn’t interested. “If I want any chance of finding the scions, I need Aymeric and Ishgard’s support.”

Twin huffed again. _“Tell him we’ll discuss it in the skies. I have not flown freely in weeks.”_

Z’iyanna relayed this to Haurchefant. “Try and be back before nightfall.” He said, still smiling. The two had known each other for almost three years now, and she still had no idea how he could remain so positive. Absolutely nothing phased him, and that was probably for the best considering the company he kept. 

“We will.”

* * *

It was well past dinner before Z’iyanna convinced Twin to leave for Anyx Trine. She didn’t blame the dragon for being so opposed to the idea, as Z’iyanna was unable to hide her own uncertainty. _“I will go to this place your friend speaks so fondly of.”_ The dragon said with a touch of sarcasm. _“But if I do not hear from you in two weeks, no flimsy human walls will stop me.”_

Z’iyanna pat the dragon’s snout. “Give me a month at least.”

_“Three weeks.”_

“Deal,” Z’iyanna said as she unhooked the dragon’s saddle. It slipped to the cave floor with a thump, and Z’iyanna knew Haurchefant would burn it before they left. “I’ll make a new one when this is all over.”

_“Learn to fly without it.”_

“And fly off when you decide to roll for no reason?” Z’iyanna said. “No thank you.”

_“I would catch you.”_

“And I’d probably break my neck.”

 _“You are too fragile.”_ Twin said. 

“Most would disagree with you,” Z’iyanna replied as she ran her hand along Twin’s neck, avoiding the neurolink that hovered around it. When they had first met in the coils, where Twin had been nothing more than a thrall controlled by the machine currently around her neck, Z’iyanna had defeated her. But, in her attempt to take it off, Z’iyanna had accidentally created a new link between _them_ instead, as the key was never meant to detach it. And Twin had been furious at first, determined to eat Z’iyanna to regain control. But, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to do so, Twin eventually relented and the two became tentative partners. 

Unlike the other two dragons in her life, Twin and Z’iyanna became actual friends. Or as friendly as a dragon and her Miqo'te mistress could be. Z’iyanna was going to miss her more than anything. But Twin, no matter how “tame” she was (the dragon hated that word more than she hated two-day-old meat) would not help Z’iyanna’s plight in the city. “I trust him.” She said. “And I will come find you.”

 _“Do not die, little one.”_ Twin said. _“I’m saving you for a special occasion.”_

Z’iyanna chuckled as she wrapped her arms around her companion. “Be safe.” 

Twin lifted her wings and let out a cry that would most certainly alert every elezen in a thirty-mile radius. Then she was off, rocketing into the sky and vanishing over the clouds that had begun to settle. Z’iyanna watched her go in silence before finally letting out a breath she had not realized she was holding. 

A Chocobo, no doubt left by Haurchefant, kwehed in excitement as Z’iyanna left the cave. She rubbed along its feathers before hopping onto its back. The bird began moving immediately, sprinting across the snow and back to Camp Dragonhead. But Z’iyanna pushed him forward, cutting through the startled knights as she broke out on the other side, heading straight for the Gates of Judgement. Her absence at dinner would already be noticed, and she had no reason to return to her room. The others would meet her there. 

_“Do you believe you will find safety in Ishgard?”_

Midgar’s words echoed repeatedly in her head. Z’iyanna wanted to believe. She wanted to trust that all of this was happening for a reason. Everything had to work. Everything always did. But _she_ had been in control of those past endeavors. This time, she wasn’t. The Warrior of Light was at the mercy of people she had never met. People with their own agendas. 

_“That’s all you’ve ever been,”_ Bahamut said.

Z’iyanna slowed the Chocobo as they reached the gate. She slid off of its back with a quiet ‘thank you’ and it returned to camp without her. Z’iyanna stared up at the gate, struggling to imagine what lay on the other side. She had been on the Steps of Faith only a few months prior, but she had never entered the city itself. She took a moment to appreciate the design of the gate, and assumed that Ishgard would look very much the same; tall and bleak, towering over those who could not find their way to the top. Haurchefant had confirmed this quietly a few weeks back. _“Not everyone is welcome in Ishgard. Not even those that already live there.”_

 _“What do you hope to accomplish?”_ Midgar said as he appeared beside her, his tiny wings flapping slowly to keep himself hovering beside her shoulder. 

“I don’t know.” She said. There was no point in lying when he could hear her every thought. “Perhaps I’ll find the truth? ”

 _“There are many truths in this world,”_ Midgar said. _“The one you find may not be the one you had hoped for.”_

She thought of Minfillia, running back into the heart of chaos despite possessing no power but the Echo. _I can save them all._

“I will do whatever must be done.” Z’iyanna said. “Even if…” She trailed off. 

“Even if what, girl?”

_Even if I’ll never see my home again?_

_Even if the Scions never come back?_

_Even if I’m doomed to die here, fighting for people I don’t know?_

She lifted her eyes to the heavens. “Even if it’s not what I want. But it is what I must do.”

Midgar hummed. It almost sounded like approval. _“Perhaps you’ll survive this ordeal after all.”_


	4. Ever Heavensward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aymeric is given an ultimatum by the one man he cannot refuse. Meanwhile, Z’iyanna and crew enter the gates of Judgement and hope for a brighter future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a few days after Christmas ^_^7 
> 
> Also fun fact, my Beta Reader calls Auseleix "Jerk the Third" so they don't have to spell out his name. I do not yet know who the other two are, though I have a guess.
> 
> Anyway, Kudos and comments are always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!

_“Their guide tells them of the Vault, wherein Thordan VII, Archbishop of the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, resides and rules. At this point, Alphinaud takes note of the twelve statues standing nearby, which the manservant confirms as the “knights twelve” who served King Thordan I in antiquity and went on to found the nation of Ishgard.”_

_-Taking in the Sights._

* * *

Aymeric knew the Heaven’s Ward would come for him. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. And considering the permanent scowl on Ser Zephirim’s face, this conversation was not going to go well. 

Neither of them spoke on the way through the Vault. That was a bit surprising, as Ser Zephirim was usually the arrogant, gloating type; the type of man that always flaunted his superiority. He was shorter than most elezen and carried a massive greatsword to make up for it. His white armor was also bulky and accented with Ishgardian blue and gray chainmail underneath, which honestly, made him look even less imposing. People respected him as a knight of the Heaven’s Ward, and clearly the Archbishop had seen something others hadn’t. All of the Heaven’s Ward wore that armor, and only the mages changed when faced with actual combat. And all of them were the type of people that Aymeric would never get along with. The most powerful knights in Ishgard who stayed in their tower and watched from afar. The Archbishop's personal guard was untouchable, and no one really knew what they did behind closed doors. 

Aymeric never expected much.

As they reached the inner chambers, Ser Zephirin shoved it open without much fanfare. “I’ve brought the Lord Commander, your eminence.” Aymeric didn’t miss the sarcasm given to his title, as if acknowledging his importance was no better than that of a commoner. Of course, the Heaven’s Ward never did that either. Not unless they were accusing someone of heresy. 

As Zephirim moved to his seat by the Archbishop’s side, Aymeric stood back, letting the door slam shut behind him. He rarely felt nervous, especially not around those who considered themselves better than him. But he felt the animosity in the room as all twelve glared at him in disapproval. Aymeric maintained his composure, glad he had chosen to wear his armor. He clutched the hilt of his sword to hide the slight tremble in his fingers. “You wished to speak with me?” He said as he focused his attention on his father. Thordan VII, Archbishop of Ishgard who the people revered - maybe even worshiped - more than anything else. He was an elderly man with a long, white beard and a tall, heavily decorated miter that Aymeric was certain had increased in size over the years. His robe was massive and decorated with Ishgardian blues and blacks along with an extreme amount of exquisite, golden details. His staff was taller than he was, and Aymeric had never seen him without it. 

“You approved passage for the Warrior of Light.” 

It wasn’t a question. “Lady Z’iyanna is a trusted ally,” Aymeric said. “Ishgard will be better off with her on our side.” He tried to be diplomatic about it, ignoring the hundreds of other reasons he wanted her here. None of the people at the table would care.

“You are comfortable using her first name?” Ser Charbert said in mock curiosity. “What kind of relationship have you developed in such a short amount of time?” He looked to the Archbishop. “His reasons are clearly more personal than we thought.”

“Her customs are different than ours,” Aymeric said. He expected this response. The Heaven’s Ward was more interested in finding fault with him than doing anything productive. He braced himself for the inevitable inquisition and continued. “I respect her wishes, including the use of her name.” He swore he heard Ser Charbert snort in disdain, but he didn’t reply. 

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Thordan said. 

“I opened our gates for the hero who saved them.”

“You let in a murderer.” Ser Grinnaux - the bull of the group who was never seen without his ax - slammed his fists on the table as he practically leaped out of his seat. “This woman has been accused of treason.”

“I do not believe she is guilty.”

“That is not for you to decide,” Ser Charibert said. Why that statement required such a smug grin, Aymeric would never know. “We should send her back. Let  _ her  _ people decide her fate.”

“She saved our city,” Aymeric said, forcing down his frustration. “On her own.”  _ While you were sitting up here doing Halone knows what.  _

“She killed a dragon.” Ser Zephirin said with a roll of his eyes. “Our knights do that daily.”

_ And how would you know that?  _ “Vishnap was more than a simple dragon.”

“We do not need her.”

A thud of Thordan’s cane silenced them all. “I will speak to the Lord Commander alone.” He said. Ser Charibert and many others started to protest, but the Archbishop simply hit his cane against the floor again. “Leave.”

All twelve of them rose in unison, and most glared at him on the way out. Aymeric met their harsh gaze with forced indifference. He refused to be belittled by them. At least, not any more than he already was. 

After the door slammed closed, silence descended on the room like a ravenous beast. The Heaven’s Ward, while strong in their own right, were nothing compared to the full weight of Thordan; his father who never acknowledged their relationship. Aymeric knew Thordan never approved of his rise into the role of Lord Commander, as he wasn’t the type of man they could control. Aymeric had earned his title through hard work, combat, and respect of those beneath him. Even so, Aymeric never quite knew how to handle the conversations between them, so he simply acted as any Lord Commander would; calm and diplomatic. 

“You trust her.”

He didn’t know why that, of all things, made him falter, but he recovered with as much grace as he could manage. “She defended our home without knowing more than a few people inside. And she’s strong. Likely more than any of us.” If any of the Heaven’s Ward were listening, they might have killed him for such a statement. But Aymeric didn’t care about them. “So yes. I trust her.”

For an impossibly long moment, Thordan was silent. But his eyes never left Aymeric’s, as if he was staring into the depths of his soul. And sometimes, Aymeric wondered if he was. The Archbishop’s true power was widely unknown beyond pure speculation. But a man of his age capable of commanding an entire nation - who demanded absolute fealty - had to have something working in his favor. 

Finally, Thordan spoke again. “Then you will be responsible for her, both within the city and wherever she chooses to go.”

That caught him off guard. “She is a ward of House Fortemps, and Lord Haurchefant is more than willing…”

“You chose to let her in, Aymeric,” Thordan said. “Ser Auseleix will handle all duties you may miss during your travels.”

Aymeric’s throat went dry. His head was spinning. There was so much wrong with that sentence he didn’t even know where to start. “Lucia…”

“Will be an excellent advisor to our fledgling Lord Commander. The people would never accept an outsider in that position, and we must keep the peace.”

Why hadn’t he considered this? Maybe that was their plan from the beginning; replace him with nothing more than a puppet eager to prove himself. And he’d given a convenient reason for it. “I cannot abandon my duties,” Aymeric said. 

“And that includes protecting our city, regardless of the reasons,” Thordan said. “I will not allow the Warrior of Light to travel in our lands unattended. You are to accompany her whenever she leaves these walls, or I will have no choice but to enlist the Heaven’s Ward to do it for you.”

Aymeric knew the argument was over. The Heaven’s Ward would stifle her. Or worse, they would find a reason to lock her up, naming her a heretic as they did so many others. The Warrior of Light needed freedom. The people of Ishgard needed her. It was one of the few ways that Aymeric believed their city could change. But no one defied the Archbishop. Especially not his bastard son. The greatest stain on his rule. So, Aymeric bowed stiffly and said, “I will make the proper arrangements, your eminence.

Thordan nodded with what might have been a smile. Aymeric could never tell. “You’re dismissed.”

He left without another word, trying to ignore the sinking feeling of doubt that threatened to drag him down. He found Lucia outside the doors of the Vault and knew she’d been waiting since he was summoned. “Not here,” He said in a low voice. A look of concern flashed in her eyes, but she simply nodded and led him away. 

* * *

Z’iyanna thought it fitting that the blizzard started mere minutes before the others arrived. Haurchefant, who could predict the weather like clockwork, wrapped her in a thick, brown cloak in disapproval. “I would much prefer if you don't become an ice sculpture, my lady.” She scowled at him, but relented when he simply grinned back. Tataru and Alphinaud stopped beside them, both shivering despite their heavily layered clothing. Z’iyanna hoped they could handle the city. Tataru, in particular, hadn’t even been to Coerthas before their sudden exile. Yet she was hopeful as always, walking with confidence. Her mood was more promising than Alphinaud's, who stared at the ground as if it held all the answers he was looking for.

Z’iyanna knew the betrayal in Ul’dah had hit him particularly hard, as most of the individuals responsible had been members of the Scion's elite guard that he had put so much faith into. She knew he blamed himself, but Z’iyanna was certain everything had been manipulated by a much stronger, and significantly wealthier force that had been planning a move on the scions before the creation of the Crystal Braves had even been considered. 

Besides, if there was anyone to blame, it was herself. She had let the soldiers drag her away instead of fighting. She had relied on the justice of corrupt men. If she had fought, the scions would be together. 

Bahamut’s hollow laugh echoed in her mind.  _ “How many would have perished in your divine retribution?” _ He mocked.  _ “We would be no different, Warrior of Light.” _ The title was spoken as deadpanned as a dragon could. A cold and angry reminder of how he believed she let the world drag her around as she saw fit. 

“Are you alright?” Haurchefant said, his voice nearly silent over the flurry of snow. They were mere steps from the gate, yet Z’iyanna could no longer see it. 

“Never better.” 

He chuckled. “You are a terrible liar.”

“I’ll be happy to talk when we’re not all freezing to death.” She said. 

“It’s a deal.” He said. How much she had come to rely on him. Her personal beacon of hope in the darkest of times. The one person who knew everything about her, whom she trusted enough to cross into a world that would cast her out if they knew the truth. And, despite his allegiances, Z’iyanna always felt that Haurchefant was more invested in  _ her  _ than his duties. Though he performed the latter to perfection, so maybe it didn’t matter. 

They stopped in a small, brick shanty before the gate. As a pair of Ishgardian knights approached, Z’iaynna imagined the seemingly endless bridge beyond; The Steps of Fate. As far as she knew, they were still working on reconstructing it after her battle with Vishnap. Storms like this one didn’t help.

“Speak,” one knight said.

Haurchefant handed him a letter. On the back were two seals; one for House Fortemps, and the other from the Lord Commander himself. “I come with a request from my father, Lord Edmont, and our Lord Aymeric requesting sanctuary for my comrades, Z’iyanna, Tataru Taru, and Alphinaud Leveilleur. We seek to cross the Steps of Faith.”

Z’iyanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Ishgard’s bureaucracy was something she hoped she'd never have to deal with directly. Too many words to express simple manners. Too much conversation and too many titles that she felt meant nothing. And while the guard made a show of opening the letter, he tucked it away far too fast to have read it. “Everything is in order,” He said as he waved at a pair of guards standing above. “Be careful out there. Dragons have been spotted nearby.”

Z’iyanna snorted quietly. Maybe this long walk into oblivion would be more fun than she expected. 

* * *

It wasn’t.

In fact, Z’iyanna was certain she was more miserable when she arrived in the city - which was mysteriously untouched by the blizzard outside - than she was when they left. 

Not a good start. 

“At least we made it,” Tataru said as if sensing Z’iyanna’s mood. She pulled her hood off and took a deep breath. “I thought the wind was going to pick up poor Alphinaud and carry him away.” If Alphinaud had been in a better mood, he would have made a joke at the irony of a lalafell saying such a thing. But he didn’t, and his sullen expression only got worse. Tataru sighed before turning her attention to Haurchefant. “I would love to explore the city.”

“Of course,” Haurchefant said. “Father’s house first, though. You’ll need official papers to wander without anyone bothering you.” He glanced at Z’iyanna. “And yes. I am aware, a simple piece of paper will not stop that, but it will keep you from being arrested.”

“A pity,” she muttered. “I quite enjoy a good prison break.”

Her joke fell flatter than she expected.  _ Too soon _ , she realized. Unfortunately, her sardonic humor didn’t often account for silly things such as “timing” and “sensitivity”. At least she kept it in check when people expected her to. Or, as Twin once said, “when she was doing Warrior of Light things”, which was often. But while Tataru and Alphinaud looked a bit queasy, Huarchefant was caught somewhere between thoughtful and amused. “I would be interested to see how the knights of the Vault hold up to your fury.”

That calmed her just a bit. “Just you wait,” She said as she raised her head a bit higher. “Once I start throwing magic stones around, it’s over. No one recovers from that.”

Tataru giggled. Z’iyanna even thought she saw a small smile from Alphinaud, but it was gone before she could confirm it. “Quickly,” Haurchefant said. “My father is expecting us.”

* * *

Lucia was angry. Maybe more than Aymeric himself. But watching her send Ser Auseleix away with a single word before slamming the door in his face almost made the whole situation with Thordan worth it. 

Almost. 

As optimistic as Aymeric usually was, he understood the gravity of the situation. “I shouldn’t be gone too often,” He said wearily, hoping that Lucia’s fury would not be turned on himself. While this was technically his fault - he had made the order, after all - neither of them could have predicted Thordan’s reaction. While Aymeric had been more active than the previous Lord Commanders - who had only left their offices to chat with other Lords or flirt with random women - he rarely left the city. His men respected him because he had risen through their ranks, and knew he would fight whenever possible. But he hadn’t been given much of an opportunity. His position was too important to the city’s stability. How could he have expected to be thrown out to the wolves with a woman he barely knew? “I’m certain Ser Auseleix will be rather docile with you around.” 

Lucia whirled on him in a heartbeat, and the eye that wasn’t covered by her long, platinum blonde hair narrowed. “I’m going with you.”

Aymeric had expected this. Lucia had no loyalties to anyone but him. And while he appreciated such a thing - and never took her for granted - he knew he would have to persuade her otherwise. “I need you here,” He said. 

“Do you honestly believe that scoundrel will listen to a thing I say?” She said. “The archbishop is already pulling the strings.”

“I’m aware,” Aymeric said. “And unfortunately, it seems I missed the few he had left on myself.”

He had hoped for a laugh but wasn’t surprised when she didn't give him one. “This could ruin our city.”

“Or save it,” Aymeric muttered. 

“He might as well send you to the gallows.”

“I am more than capable of taking care of myself,” He said, though he took no offense in her words. Aymeric knew exactly what she meant, and had honestly considered it himself. Thordan had no reason to trust the Warrior of Light, nor could he possibly know what kind of power she held. Even Aymeric barely knew as he’d always been forced away from the fight for one reason or another. Only had Haurchefant’s stories - which had notable gaps and were likely embellished from time to time - to go off of. But her strength, while somewhat elusive, was undeniable. She’d defeated countless primals if the stories were to be believed. Took down entire Garlean bases. Fought Vishnap in a way that the few knights that survived the onslaught hadn’t been able to describe. Some had even called her a witch, though it had never been out of malice. As far as Aymeric knew, they simply couldn’t comprehend whatever magic she had used. 

Quite impressive for one that had called herself “ nothing more than a proficient White Mage” when they last spoke.

"We don't have a choice," Aymeric said. "All we can do is trust her and work with what we have." 

Lucia's gaze softened. "I can't abandon you." 

"You're the only one I can trust," Aymeric said. "He may not listen to you, but you can watch him. Auseleix isn't capable of keeping things to himself, and if anyone is going to brag about tasks from Thordan…" 

Lucia sighed, but nodded. "I will keep you informed. But if your life is ever at stake.." 

"You will be the first person I call," Aymeric said. "You have my word." 

The door swung open. Ser Zephirim entered with a smug smile on his face. Auseleix was behind him, standing much too tall and holding his chin too high. Aymeric ignored him. "Your  _ savior _ is here." Ser Zephirim said. "And his eminence suggests you inform her of the agreement. I will handle the affairs of our new Lord Commander." 

"How fitting that the most polished broom should be the one to sweep the commons," Aymeric said. Ser Zephirim's eyes widened, but Aymeric was certain he was only aware of the insult, but didn't fully understand it. "I will leave the rest to you, Ser Auseleix." He said with a gentle nod to Lucia. "Send a message should you need anything." 

He left without sparing either of the men a second glance.


	5. Over the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Z'iyanna gets her first glimpse of Ishgard's disparity, meets Lord Edmont, and receives a special gift. Meanwhile, Aymeric works through how to deliver bad news to a legend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back and Happy New Year!
> 
> I apologize for not being able to get this out closer to Christmas. My beta read (at least, the one for this story, in particular) wasn't available until yesterday, and I didn't want to skip that process. I also did small edits to the last chapter. Nothing story wise, but fixed a few of the odd descriptions and a couple of the dialogue options. So if you saw an update, that's why.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_“It would seem the stark division between these two clienteles reflects the divisions beyond the tavern’s walls- as the differing experiences of the high- and lowborn during the recent wyvern attack make plain. While the Pillars’ defenses were fortified, the Brume and its residents were left to bear the brunt of the Dravanians’ fury. A troubling thought indeed…”_

_-The Better Half_

_\--------------_

Fortemps Manor was in the Pillars which, according to Haurchefant, was the highest, and the richest, of Ishgard’s layers. That alone made Z’iyanna wary. The difference between the Pillars and the rest of Ishgard was staggering. If each layer wasn’t so bleak, built entirely with gray stones and the occasional gold on the taller buildings and spires, she might have thought she had walked between two entirely different worlds. The Pillars was filled with gray foliage, the only kind that could survive the harsh climate, well-crafted archways, and at least four gazebos for the ladies to gossip in relative safety. The second layer, called the Foundation, was much simpler, and clearly made for the middle class. It was the bottom layer – the Brume – that drew her attention. The destroyed buildings and starving people tugged on her heart with each glance.

The wealth in Ishgard seemed as well distributed as that in Ul’dah. Which was to say the money remained with those who had it, while the downtrodden remained so. They were nothing more than fodder for those who had been born lucky.

But not every noble was evil as far as she knew. Z’iyanna had heard good things about Count Edmont in particular. And considering Haurchefont’s overall temperament and desire to help others, his father had to at least be decent. She wanted to believe that there were people in this city who were willing to change, even if they weren’t sure how to do it.

“House Fortemps is one of the four High Houses of Ishgard,” Haurchefant said as they passed under what Z’iyanna hoped was the final archway. “The others are Durrendare, Dzemal, and Hallienarte, all descendants of the first High Houses centuries ago.”

“Are there other nobles?” Alphinaud said. Z’iyanna was relieved that her companions were genuinely interested in Haurchefant’s mini history lesson. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, as any information was better than nothing, but this was the first time in months that Alphinaud looked thoughtful rather than depressed. Hopefully, she’d find time to ask him what was on his mind later.

“Numerous,” Haurchefant said with a nod. “Many of those nobles are given their titles after virtuous deeds of some kind. Knights and clergymen are also highly respected, though the term “noble” wouldn’t quite apply to them.”

Z’iyanna’s eyes caught the gaze of a few elezen ladies, but most were quick to look away. “Don’t suppose there are any Miqo’te houses around.”

“You’re likely the only one in the city.”

Her ears twitched. “Explains all the staring.”

“They’d be staring at us anyway,” Tataru said with incredible enthusiasm. “I doubt there are many Lalafells around either.”

“Or outsiders in general,” Alphinaud murmured.

“You’re both correct,” Haurchefant said. “But don’t worry about it too much. Your home is here, and no one will disturb you.” He gestured to what Z’iyanna assumed was his father’s manor. It was comprised of two stories with a domed structure on top. She assumed it was an attic of some sort. The building was made of the same brick as the rest of the city with a green-tinged metal roof. A soft, golden glow filled all of the windows, but it was impossible to see anything through the translucent glass.

The two guards outside bowed as they approached, but Z’iyanna walked past all of them, wandering down the small incline. She heard Haurchefant ask the other two to make themselves at home before the distinct clinking of his armor echoed behind her. Z’iyanna hopped onto a large, slightly elevated circle. Dozens of spires rose in all directions, but the fog below made it impossible to see where any of them were coming from. A large structure resembling a wall wrapped around the city but vanished in multiple places just like the spires. “If I didn’t know any better,” she said as Haurchefant approached. “I’d think this city was adrift in the clouds.”

He chuckled. “I’ve heard one of my brothers is being sent to the Sea of Clouds. You may be able to join him for a bit.”

“Sea of Clouds?” Z’iyanna echoed as she looked at him incredulously.

“Imagine this,” He said lifting his hand as if trying to drive away the foul weather himself. “A beautiful, green world that seems to go on forever. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of islands floating in a sea of perfect blue. And on every island is a unique creature, from Griffons to Gaelicat’s, and even a tribe of peaceful Vanu who call that world their own.”

“Gaelicats..?”

“They’re cats with wings,” Haurchefant said in amusement. “Though I couldn’t tell you where those wings come from. The creatures oft threaten to gouge the eyes out of whoever comes near.”

She laughed. “Aside from that… you make it sound like a dream.”

“I’ve only seen it a few times myself,” He admitted. “But I have always wished I could spend more time there and explore every island.”

She nudged his shoulder with a playful grin. “It sounds like you were in need of an adventuring companion. And here I thought you brought me here out of the kindness of your heart.”

Haurchefant laughed, his eyes glittering as he did so. “You’ll grow restless here, my lady. And the Warrior of Light should never have to travel alone.”

“What about your post?”

“A member of House Dzemal will be fulfilling my duties while I am gone,” Haurchefant said. “An old companion of mine whom I trust with the lives of my men.”

Z’iyanna gazed back over the darkness of the city below. “I don’t know where we’ll be going or why we’ll be going there.”

“Do you ever?”

She scoffed with a shake of her head. “I used to.”

He held his hand out. “A storm is coming, my lady, and we must speak to my father before it hits. Would you mind accompanying me?”

Z’iyanna rolled her eyes. “When we do leave,” She said, taking his hand. “Stop calling me that.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

* * *

Z’iyanna decided that she liked Count Edmot before he spoke a single word. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the way he stood proudly, even with his cane and bowed to _them_ despite his own nobility. Maybe it was the genuine, very Haurchefant like smile he gave her and the others as they entered. Regardless, she was relieved that one of her positive assumptions had been correct.

“Welcome,” Count Edmont said. “I hope your journey was not too taxing?”

“Just taxing enough,” Z’iyanna said without an ounce of sarcasm. “I needed some time to think.”

Edmont’s smile widened. “I’m glad to see you are in good spirits.”

Z’iyanna held back her initial response – _wouldn’t do me much good to mope about –_ and said, “We appreciate your assistance in this… unfortunate matter.” She flinched at the words before they had even come off her tongue. _Too formal,_ she berated herself. But she wasn’t sure if she could act like herself yet either, especially with the half-dozen other stoic elezen in the room. At least two of them were glaring at her, but one looked uncomfortably enthusiastic. _Must be Haurchefant’s brothers,_ she thought, though she wasn’t certain which was which.

“Consider it gratitude for all that you have done for Ishgard,” Count Edmont said. “As wards of House Fortemps, my home is your home.” He nodded at one of his servants who handed each of them a large sheet of paper with the official seal of House Fortemps. A quick glance at the other two, Z’iyanna realized that hers also had a second, unfamiliar mark on it. “Those documents are proof of your status as wards of House Fortemps. Should anyone question your presence within the city, show them those. Though I hope it does not come to that.”

Z’iyanna tilted her head in thought as the others tucked theirs away. “Whose mark is this?” She said.

“That is the stamp of House Borel,” Count Edmont said.

“Ser Aymeric?”

He nodded. “I was informed of a…” He paused. “Last minute change of plans. The Lord Commander asks to speak with you once you are settled in, but assures me that there is no rush.”

Z’iyanna’s eyes drifted to the seal again, before nodding and finally tucking it away. “Are you not concerned for your own safety?” Alphinaud said. Z’iyanna fought to keep herself from swiveling at him in pure shock. That was the most passionate thing she’d heard from him in months. _Maybe all this snow will be good for him._ “Housing three fugitives in a city that despises outsiders…”

“I’m not concerned,” Count Edmont said. “Although those of the Vault will likely question my and Ser Aymeric’s decision, I’m certain my peers will come to accept you all in time.” He looked to Haurchefant. “The rooms are prepared, but I’m certain Lady Z’iyanna will be much happier to see everything else you’ve prepared for her.”

Z’iyanna raised an eyebrow, but Haurchefant merely bowed to her in that overexaggerated way he did when he was too excited for words. “I hope you’ll indulge me a little longer, my lady.”

“Count Edmont,” Tataru said with a hint of uncertainty. “Alphinaud and I would like a tour of the city.”

Alphinaud nodded. “As Z’iyanna is often the one on the frontlines, we want no less than to understand this city and be as helpful and self-sufficient as possible.”

“Of course,” Edmont said. “Would you mind, Eaurlant?” A second, younger-looking servant bowed with an odd look of relief. Z’iyanna wondered if he didn’t get out of the manor often.

“I’ll make sure Lady Z’iyanna gets her own tour later,” Haurchefant said.

“Good,” Alphinaud replied. And when he _finally_ smiled, Z’iyanna couldn’t help but beam back. Startled, Alphinaud took a rather large step back as a blush appeared on his cheeks. “Let’s be off then,” He said, spinning away so quickly Z’iyanna was surprised he didn’t fall flat on his face.

Tataru laughed as their companion rushed from the room. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Z’iyanna nodded. “Do not hesitate to…”

“Call if we need anything.” Tataru finished. “Same goes to you.” She curtseyed to Count Edmont before walking along Eaurlant and out of the room. 

“Thank you again,” Z’iyanna said with a bit of an awkward bow. “I know this isn’t easy on you.”

Count Edmont shook his head. “I always try to do what’s right, even if others disagree.”

Haurchefant took a step forward. “If it pleases you, my Lord, I would like to accompany our new charge to the Chocobo Stables before the storm hits.”

Again, Z’iyanna looked at him in pure confusion. “The stables?”

“I will not keep you here any longer,” Count Edmont said with a knowing smile. That was almost as infuriating and unhelpful as Haurchefant’s. “My home is your home, Warrior of Light,” He said, “Don’t ever forget that.”

* * *

Aymeric still remembered the first time he met Z’iyanna. Lucia had teased him endlessly during their admittedly short trip to Coerthas, as he had been undeniably and strangely nervous for the rendezvous. Back then, she had been something of an enigma to the citizens of Ishgard, as even the Gates of Judgment couldn’t prevent the spread of stories of her heroism. So when Aymeric heard rumors that Lady Iceheart was a _primal_ , something Ishgardian’s hadn’t dealt with in as long as he had been alive, if not longer, Z’iyanna had been their only hope.

Honestly, he had been surprised when she first walked in. Aymeric hadn’t seen many Miqo’te’s in his lifetime – such was the nature of a Lord Commander of such a reclusive nation – but he had expected someone… bulkier. Maybe a swordsman or fighter of some kind. Instead, Z’iyanna was a petite white mage whose head barely reached his chest.

But she had an air of superiority around her. It was not pretentious, as she was incredibly humble, even downplaying some of her successes. It was Haurchefant that had lauded over her strength, and she had flushed with embarrassment the more he spoke. It helped that she was unusually striking with her long, dark purple hair and pastel eyes. And Aymeric was a tad bit ashamed that the word “exotic” had come to mind much quicker than anything else. But he had kept himself composed, as he usually did, and had been relieved that the stories Haurchefant told were true. And after Vishnap’s defeat, while the others cheered her victory, Z’iyanna had gazed upon her enemy with a look that Aymeric could only describe as solemn. She had done her duty. She had protected them, just as she had done for countless Eorzean’s before. 

He’d never gotten that image out of his mind, nor had he lost that desire to know more about her. Though forcing her to protect him– as he was not too proud to claim it was the other way around – was not the way he had hoped to achieve that. The Archbishop had already forced him to mark her as a ward of House Borel instead of Fortemps, but Count Edmont had promised he would protect her as if she were his own, and both had agreed to let her decide where she wanted to live in all of this mess. He had left before her arrival, if only to hide away in the Chocobo stables, as no one dared bother him there.

So, of course, that would be the first place Haurchefant would take her. If Aymeric didn’t know any better, he’d think Count Edmont had given him away. But, as far as he was aware, no one but Lucia knew of this secret hideout of his. And while they didn’t spot him right away, as Aymeric had taken to feeding a group of Chocobos near the back and Haurchefant’s favorite spot was closer to the front, they were blocking the way out. So, resigned to his fate, Aymeric made his way toward them instead. _Better to deal with it now,_ He thought.

“I know its not as good as what you’ve had in the past,” Haurchefant’s voice echoed past him, stopping Aymeric in his tracks. “But I like to think these are sufficient.”

Z’iyanna laughed. It was much higher pitched than Aymeric expected, but not unpleasant. He did, however, hear a hint of exhaustion. “Sufficient?” She said. “Were you planning on bringing me more relics, Lord Haurchefant?”

“Of course not, my lady,” Haurchefant replied. “Even your unlimited coffers could not afford a third.”

She snorted. “Rowena wouldn’t have helped with a third.” Aymeric heard the clinking of metal, followed by a very slight flicker of light, though he couldn’t be certain what any of it was. “All of these will work.”

“Good,” Haurchefant said. “But that’s not the main reason why we’re here.” Aymeric heard a shuffling of something. Maybe feet on the hay? Then, there was a quiet gasp, followed by a much louder kweh of a Chocobo. “I know Twin scared away your last one,” Haurchefant said. “So I found you another. And trust me; this one won’t be running away any time soon.” The second kweh was one of pure confidence.

“He’s beautiful,” Z’iyanna breathed.

“He’s yours,” Haurchefant said. “And he can fly.”

“Fly?”

“It’s a bit of a necessity for them here.”

“What’s his name?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

Z’iyanna was silent for a bit. Aymeric knew of the Chocobo they were speaking of, as Haurchefant had traveled back countless times to train it himself. His black feathers had white tips and were quite unique for Ishgard. He turned heads wherever he went. But no matter how many nobles asked that he sell it, Haurchefant had been steadfast. Aymeric hadn’t realized it was all for her.

“Zephyr,” she said. “A Chocobo as fast as the wind.” Zephyr cheered at that, and Z’iyanna laughed. “And he’s feisty.”

“Fitting considering the woman he’ll be carrying,” Haurchefant said. The fondness in his voice, while expected given his stories, was far greater than Aymeric had imagined. We’ll leave him here tonight, but after that, you’re welcome to take him anywhere you like.”

As Haurchefant stepped out, his eyes locked on Aymeric’s and he grinned before a quick salute. “Lord Commander,” He said. “My apologies. I was unaware you were here.”

Aymeric waved him off. “Coincidence,” He said. When Z’iyanna stepped out with a curious look in her eyes, Aymeric’s mind went blank. She looked just as he remembered. Same staff, different robe, and hair tied back in a way that looked quite miserable. And yet he felt even more intimidated than before. He wanted to laugh at himself but knew that would come off all wrong. “Lady Z’iyanna,” He said. “Welcome to Ishgard.”

He heard a quiet groan and swore her tail flicked in annoyance. “Look what you’ve done,” She said to Haurchefant with a scowl. “Now he’s calling me that too.”

Haurchefant laughed. “Old habits are often difficult to overcome.”

Z’iyanna shook her head with a quiet click of her tongue. “Count Edmont said you wanted to speak with me?”

Aymeric’s throat went dry, but he recovered with as much grace as he could muster. “It seems my decision to bring you into Ishgard has attracted the attention of the Archbishop.”

She hummed, though he wasn’t certain if it was in thought or disdain. “I’m not surprised,” She said with a shrug. “But what does that mean for you?”

 _It's now or never._ He thought. “I have been asked to accompany you on your travails… no matter where they may lead.”

He didn’t miss the looks exchanged between Z’iyanna and Haurchefant. “The Archbishop wants the Lord Commander to leave Ishgard?” Haurchefant said. Aymeric knew that Haurchefant’s respect for the Archbishop was similar to his own. Neither would defy the man’s position or power, but both felt he wasn’t doing enough. Aymeric had a feeling that Haurchefant was thinking the same things that Lucia had already expressed.

“He has named an acting Lord Commander to serve in my stead,” Aymeric said. “And if I refuse to go… one of the Heaven’s Ward will be tasked with the duty.”

Haurchefant grimaced at that. Z’iyanna looked between them, confused. “The Heaven’s Ward?” She repeated.

“The Knights Twelve,” Haurchefant said. “The Archbishop’s holy personal guard, if you will.” Aymeric knew he had a lot more he wanted to say, but none of them could risk someone overhearing. “They are… _well respected_ in Ishgard, and very thorough in their hunt for heretics.”

Z’iyanna’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When she turned back to Aymeric, however, her confident smile had returned. “Another…” She trailed off.

“Companion?” Haurchefant said.

“That makes you sound like a Chocobo.”

“A glorified Chocobo, my lady.”

Z’iyanna glared at him. Again, her tail flicked in response, and Aymeric wondered if she controlled that or if it just… happened.

He shook his head as if trying to knock the thought out of his mind. _Not important._

“I must warn you, Lord Commander,” Z’iyanna said. This time, both her voice and her expression were deadly serious. The only thing he could do was stand tall and hold her gaze. “Travelling with me has never been easy, nor do I think it ever will be.” Her eyes shifted away for such a brief moment that Aymeric wondered if he imagined it. “I will protect you as much as I can, but you may often have to defend yourself.”

A strange feeling of excitement took him by surprise. _Why?_ He was certain now that the Archbishop wanted to replace him, and an unfortunate death would be the easiest way to do that. And Auseleix would never help the people that needed him the most. Aymeric’s power in Ishgard was all but gone. His title meant nothing outside of these walls. It barely meant anything within the city after Thordan’s decision. He should be upset. Maybe even anxious. Instead, he was… excited?

“Adventuring is refreshing,” Haurchefant said as if reading Aymeric’s mind. “The more time I’ve spent out in the world, and away from these walls, the more I’ve discovered what’s really important.” Z’iyanna blinked, and her serious expression vanished as her gaze returned to Haurchefant. “It may not be what you were expecting, Lord Commander,” he continued. “But I believe we can help you make the best of it.”

The honesty was refreshing given all Aymeric was dealing with.

“Though,” Haurchefant glanced at Z’iyanna. “Might I suggest a spar?”

“A spar?” She said. “What good would…?”

“The Lord Commander has never truly seen you fight,” he said. “It may be best if he witnesses it first hand.”

Z’iyanna’s grin turned almost predatory. “I suppose that would be the best way to do it,” She said, her voice more dismissive than her posture. “Though I will need some new clothes.”

“Done,” Haurchefant said. “The weather should be good tomorrow. Maybe we can find a suitable spot outside of Falcon’s nest? If we clear out the creatures around the Falls we won’t have an audience.”

Aymeric crossed his arms in mock insult. “Are you concerned for my pride, Lord Haurchefant?”

The knight chuckled but said nothing more.


	6. Sky's the Limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alphinaud and Tataru make a few enemies and are rescued by a certain Azure Dragoon. Meanwhile, Aymeric gets his first taste of the battle prowess of the Warrior of Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shooting for continuous Wed. updates except I'll probably miss one around my out of country trip. We'll see!
> 
> Side note: One of the screenshots I took for this that I use to post alongside the link on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/LuxZenith) took about as long as writing the scene the screenshot is for. But I (think) It was worth it!
> 
> Enjoy!

_“From its humble origins as a lonely cluster of barracks nestled in the mountains of western Coerthas, the village of Falcon’s Nest grew and prospered until the Calamity came and the icy winter took its deathly toll. Its name derives from the falconers who reside there with their snow-white charges, defending their mountain home from the Dravanian threat.”_

_-Falcon’s Nest; Unknown_

* * *

It was nearly two weeks before Alphinaud was able to find his place in Ishgard. Tataru had done it in half the time, taking up near-permanent residence in the tavern with the proprietor’s amused blessing. But Alphinaud had been a bit more cautious. 

His first attempt at ‘infiltration’ as Tataru had called it almost in jest, was the Scholasticate. Admittedly, it had been a long shot. He could barely wander down the road without strange looks or glares, much less into one of the most well-guarded places in the city. But he had hoped that the students might want to share their beliefs with a fellow elezen.

He’d spoken less than a sentence before the guards had been called and he’d promptly escorted himself out.

Eventually, he found his calling at the Jeweled Crozier. Though “calling” was a generous way of putting it. He was essentially a glorified errand boy. The shopkeeps sent him around Ishgard delivering to those that were too “busy” for pick up. But Alphinaud, determined to prove himself in whatever way possible, had circled Ishgard until he memorized every location. Now, he was practically flying about the place, as convenience was far more important than upholding their distrust of outsiders.

It was a rather clumsy infiltration, and not nearly as glamorous as it could have been, but the fervor of work was preferable to the guilt he wasn’t yet ready to confront.

Today his job took him to House Dzaemel, as Countess Brileone had ordered her third tea set in a week and her manservant was too busy to come pick it up. Alphinaud didn’t mind, though. His work often took him to noble homes, but visiting the High Houses was his real goal. And, as he had learned over his limited time in the city, the relationships between the houses was needlessly complex. House Fortemps was House Dzaemel’s greatest rival, but House Hallinarte’s best friend. As far as he had discerned, all of the houses disliked each other. Only Count Edmont seemed to stay out of it, unlike his two legitimate sons.

But rivalries meant rumors, and rumors meant gossip, and gossip was insider knowledge. And if there was anything the noblewomen were good at, it was gossip. So when Countess Brileone demanded that he stay outside her door and keep watch, citing something about her “lazy manservant not doing his job,” Alphinaud was more than happy to oblige. 

“It’s unfortunate,” one of the younger ladies, whom Alphinaud didn’t recognize, said. “I thought the Lord Commander’s story was rather inspiring. My Lord respects him, at least.”

The Countess snorted. “That _Bastard_ was lucky to get anything. His existence is a blight on our city. I, for one, am glad the Archbishop has chosen one of much nobler blood to take his place.” Alphinaud knew of Aymeric’s lineage. The Lord Commander had been forthcoming with that information when sitting down with him and the others shortly after their arrival. He didn’t realize that Aymeric’s temporary replacement was common knowledge, however. At the very least, none of the common folk had mentioned it.

“‘Tis a pity,” Another woman sighed. “Aymeric is much more pleasing to the eye.”

“Oh please,” the first woman rolled her eyes. “He’s clearly more interested in the exotic.”

“I heard the Archbishop is furious he let that outsider in at all.” Alphinaud found it strange that they weren’t talking about himself and Tataru in the same manner. He supposed they had kept a low profile compared to Z’iyanna, who couldn’t walk five feet without someone talking about her. “I’ve heard he’s enamored with her.”

Alphinaud shook his head. He wasn’t surprised that was a rumor going around, as the Archbishop’s command would likely never leave their small group. As far as Alphinaud knew, Aymeric and Z’iyanna’s relationship was purely professional. It probably helped that another Elezen had claimed the title of “the Warrior of Light’s closest companion”. Alphinaud thought it unfortunate that Aymeric’s reputation had to suffer for nothing.

“With all the time they’re spending together, it wouldn’t surprise me.” The Countess’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Have you seen what she’s _wearing?_ ” 

“Scandalous.” Another woman agreed. 

That time, it took everything Alphinaud had to not burst out in laughter. Z’iyanna, who had accepted that nothing she did would change anyone’s opinion, had returned to her confident and self-assured ways. Gone were her conservative robes and hairstyle, replaced by the well-crafted pieces made from Allagan technology by a long list of ambitious crafters. Calling it scandalous was a stretch, and he almost wished he could see their reactions to her usual, wyrm inspired attire.

“Ser?” A man’s voice startled Alphinaud. A new elezen in a coat similar to Cout Edmonts towered over him, eyes narrowed, The door was slightly ajar, pushed open by the manservant behind him that looked too flustered to have noticed Alphinaud at all. Alphinaud didn’t miss the looks of confusion from the women on the other side. 

“M-my apologies,” Alphinaud said, unable to keep the stammer out of his voice. All of the ladies were staring at him now. A couple were suspicious. Forcing an awkward smile, he said, “I believe it’s best if I return to work now, Countess.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he shot out of the estate before she could. 

It wasn’t until he reached The Forgotten Knight that he stopped to breathe. No guards had followed him, and the Countess was likely more confused than upset, but he knew how thin the line between “proper” and “unacceptable” was in this city. He’d hate to invoke Count Edmont’s protection for something as petty as that. He took a moment to adjust his chamise and jacket that were both much too tight before heading down the stairs. 

The tavern was as busy as usual, mixed with all kinds of customers. It wasn’t particularly fancy, but its position between the bottom two layers made it one of the few places where both high and low-born could fraternize in relative peace. He knew from Tataru’s stories that it was often visited by wealthier knights and priests looking to lord their power over others, but rarely stayed long. Very few customers cared about those opinions to begin with. 

Tataru waved him over from her usual table where a small crowd had gathered. This was normal for her, as she had spent countless hours learning Triple Triad to play with the locals. Alphinaud had even heard rumors that she had amassed an impressive collection of cards from wins alone, but Tataru herself had neither confirmed nor denied this statement. Regardless, her frequent game nights were something that many enjoyed and often drew an excited and, more importantly, talkative crowd. “Glad to see you well,” Tataru said as she patted the seat beside her. 

“Same to you,” Alphinaud said as he took her offer. The two were overly formal when out in public, as they tried to emulate the typical Ishgardian conversations. Sometimes they got odd looks, but were otherwise ignored. “Interesting day, I hope.”

Tataru’s smile turned to her opponent. “Once we finish this game of ours, I’m certain it will be.”

Alphinaud held back a sigh. Nothing new, then. Though they hadn’t been expecting much. Alphinaud had seen very little information from outside of Ishgard, and most of it was basic correspondence for Count Edmont, none of which was helpful. Tataru had decided to focus on Ishgard itself, something that Alphinaud had begrudgingly come to accept was better than watching his hope slip away.

Slam!

The patrons froze. Many turned toward the stairs. Two knights in white and dark blue armor stopped at the top, their eyes scanning the crowd. One was a bit shorter than the other, but both were intimidating. “Heaven’s Ward,” one man murmured. Discomfort rippled throughout the tavern. Even the proprietor looked weary, not bothering to welcome the two. 

“Well, well,” The taller of the two said with a snicker. “Fitting that the outsider _filth_ would take up residence here, don’t you think, Ser Zephirin?”

The second knight snickered. “This is where the refuse often gathers.” They practically hopped down the final steps, and the sea of patrons parted as they stalked toward Tataru’s table. “What business do you two have here?”

Alphinaud glanced at Tataru, surprised to find that she was smiling. He did, however, notice the way her hands shook under the table. “The best way to learn about a city is through their taverns,” She said as she gestured to the cards on the table. “Care for a game?”

Ser Zephirin scowled at her, but it was the second man - a cleric of some kind now that Alphinaud was able to get a good look at him- who spoke. “We do not have time for such proletarian things.” Aphinaud held his gaze, though every part of him wanted to roll his eyes. Of all the nobles he’d encountered, these were certainly the most pretentious. But he had been warned against drawing the ire of the Heaven’s Ward. Though if two of them were already here…

“Alphinaud,” A new voice said from the stairway. “Tataru.” All eyes jerked to the purple armored dragoon as he remained on the top step. _Estinien,_ Alphinaud thought with relief. Though his eyes were covered by his helmet, his rigid posture and crossed arms conveyed something akin to annoyance as he watched the members of the Heaven’s Ward. “I apologize for my tardiness,” He continued. “If I had known we had such esteemed guests, I would have been here sooner.”

The two knights glared at him. “The great Azure Dragoon has graced us with his presence at last.” The cleric mocked. “We had thought you dead, old friend.”

“You would know better were you on the front lines, Ser Charibert,” Estinien said. “But I understand how important your duty is to the Archbishop.”

Alphinaud couldn’t decide if that was an insult or a compliment. Ser Zephirin’s fury suggested the former, but Ser Charibert merely tapped his companion’s shoulder and shook his head. “State your business.”

“I’ve been asked to deliver a letter,” Estinien said. “And ask our esteemed guests to join Count Edmont for supper.”

Alphinaud almost choked. From what he knew about Estinien - which, admittedly, wasn’t much - he wouldn’t be caught dead performing such menial tasks. But, lie or otherwise, it was a convenient escape route. So, Alphinaud stood almost in tandem with Tataru. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sers,” He said with a bow. Tataru followed suit, and when neither knight responded, the two followed after Estinien with as much haste as was proper. 

Once they were a safe distance outside, it was Estinien who pulled them aside and out of prying eyes. “Those are not the friends you should be making.”

“Unintentional,” Alphinaud said. “And thank you.”

“The Warrior of Light is here too?”

“She left for Falcon’s Nest this morning,” Tataru said. “She didn’t tell us why, but Lord Haurchefant went with her.”

“Convenient,” The dragoon said. “Ser Aymeric left this morning as well.”

The two glanced at each other. Odd that she wouldn’t mention that. But, then again, they were all busy. Keeping track of each other’s exact whereabouts wasn’t reasonable. “You mentioned a letter?”

“Count Edmont is waiting for you,” He said as he turned to leave.

“Wait,” Alphinaud said, pulling his hand back just before he grabbed at the dragoon’s armor. “Can you at least tell me who it’s from?”

Estinien paused. “She is a rather well-mannered pirate, all things considered.”

Relief flooded through Alphinaud as he forced a courteous bow. But Estinien was already a block away, so Alphinaud awkwardly looked to Tataru instead. The lalafell beamed up at him. “Let’s not keep the Count waiting.”

* * *

The Warrens were a secluded area in the western highlands, though that could be said for most of the snow barren wasteland. To the left of Aymeric were the Graytail Falls, frozen in a permanent sheet of ice tumbling into the unknown. It was an abnormally beautiful day, with clear blue skies that he hadn’t seen in months. The mountains in the distance were actually visible, and the fog leading into the abyss seemed slightly less daunting than on days of heavy snow. 

It was almost amusing, considering that Haurchefant had informed him that this _exact_ day at this _exact_ time was the best time for a spar. Fury knows where the knight got that information. 

The few amount of monsters in the area had been quickly dealt with by the trio of knights that had accompanied Aymeric on the impromptu journey. In a show of thanks, Aymeric made a fire himself - which had flabbergasted the knights, as they had borne witness to the Lord Commander doing such a menial task - and asked for their stories. At first, they had been quiet, but after Aymeric shared some of his own, the three eventually opened up. And Aymeric listened with genuine interest, as it was rare for him to enjoy such personal conversation with anyone but Lucia. And these tales were always more informative than the impersonal written reports he slogged through on a daily basis. 

When he spotted Lord Haurchefant on the cliffside, Aymeric sent the three away promising better food, more barrels of wine, and an order of new lances. “It should take less than a fortnight,” he said as he handed off the last Chocobo. “May Halone guide you.”

The three knights saluted and left as Haurchefant rode into the clearing. “Lord Commander,” He said as he dismounted. The bird shook his feathers with a soft kweh as Haurchefant fed it pieces of an apple. “You’ll get more at home,” He said, laughing as the Chocobo nuzzled his cheek before wandering over to Aymeric’s own. “Lady Z’iyanna should be…” 

He was cut off by an excited kweh seemingly from the heavens. Zephyr leaped off the cliffside, his wings flapping wildly as he drifted in an almost perfect circle. Z’iyanna was a picture of grace on the bird’s back, completely unbothered and actually excited as it drifted for a moment over the abyss. Her crimson coat flew up in all directions, only held down by the generous, silver pauldrons, massive white sleeves, and the extra weight of the metal woven on the back. Snow clung to her cotton breeches and white boots, and Aymeric was surprised she wasn’t shivering. 

The second Zephyr landed, Z’iyanna slipped from his back with a flourish, eliciting a laugh for Haurchefant as she bowed to them both. “Greetings, Lord Commander,” She said as she snapped her fingers. Her cane - Thyrus, he recalled - appeared on her back in a quick flash of light. “Wow,” She said as she gazed out on the abyss. “I had seen this sight before but…” She shook her head. “Ishgard is a strange place.”

“It can be quite beautiful, if one knows where to look,” Haurchefant said. 

“Or dreadful,” She replied. “If one doesn’t.”

“Luckily,” the knight said. “I always do.”

“Somehow,” She said as she threw her hands up in the air. “I can fight primals, dragons, and Garleans alike but ask me about the weather and I’m at a loss.”

Aymeric smiled with a small shake of his head. He hadn’t spent much time with the two yet, having only joined Count Edmont and the others in a small, private conversation to explain what the Archbishop expected of him. But he was quickly coming to learn that this banter was quite normal between them. Considering the years they’d been working together, it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. It reminded him of his conversations with Lucia when they had time to talk away from their professional duties.

“So!” Z’iyanna said. “A spar.” Her excitement was contagious, but Aymeric kept himself composed. “What kind of battle are you hoping for?”

“That is an odd question to ask.”

“Magical, physical, all around,” She shrugged. “I’m flexible.” She held out her hand with a wide grin. “No-holds-barred, fair competition?”

He stared at her for a long moment, unsure what he was getting himself into. But agreeing to her terms seemed a better idea than gawking at her. “That is acceptable,” He said as he took her hand. 

Pain shot through him. Images of a great dragon flashed in his mind. A few were of wings emerging from a red moon. Others were of the dragon itself, hovering over him. He barely held himself upright, disoriented as his vision shifted between one of fire and another of snow. “Lord Commander?” Z’iyanna’s voice echoed somewhere over the chaos. His vision snapped back to normal as he barely caught himself before tumbling face-first into the snow. Haurchefant’s hand was tight on his shoulder and his eyes were filled with concern. Z’iyanna had yet to let go. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m…” He didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t sure what to say. “Uncertain.”

A series of roars and shrieks pulled their attention before either could question him. “Dragons?” Z’iyanna said. "I thought there haven't been attacks here since Vishap." 

"There haven’t been, as far as I’m aware," Haurchefant said. 

"A few strays," Ayneric said. The roars got louder, followed by the heavy beating of wings. A few shadows swooped over them, but they were hidden by the cliffside. "Falcon's Nest." 

Z'iyanna and Zephyr were off before Aymeric even realized she'd mounted. "Lady Z'iyanna!" Haurchefant yelled as the two took to the skies. 

"You'll catch up!" She yelled back before vanishing over the cliff. 

Haurchefant sighed, but Aymeric saw the hint of a smile. "I presume she does that often?" He said. 

"More than I care to admit." He whistled for the two Chocobos, offering Aymeric’s to him before reaching for his own. "I'm afraid that is one of many habits you'll have to get used to." After another series of roars, a few pained, Haurchefants head jerked toward it in alarm. 

"Quickly," Aymeric said as he hopped on his Chocobo. "It's best we do not leave her to fight our battles alone." 

* * *

It took Z’iyanna a few minutes to catch up to the small pack of dragons heading to Falcon’s Nest. And Zephyr, who was living up to both his name and Haurchefant’s expectations, shot right by them as if reading her mind. “I’ll make it up to you,” She said earning a soft kweh in response. With a deep breath, she flung herself from the saddle, Thyrus in hand. As she landed, a small orb of white light exploded around her. The dragons - five in total - screeched in panic. Two smaller wyverns hit the ground, dazed. The three larger ones recovered with ease, but didn’t try to pass her. The biggest one, a large red dragon that stood on four legs, roared. His voice echoed at her, clear as day. _Move, mortal._

Z’iyanna glanced behind her. They were a bit too far from Falcon’s Nest, but she was certain an alarm had been sounded. Her two companions would be here soon; more than enough time. With a deep breath, she channeled a small bit of Bahamut’s aether into herself, ignoring his warning growl. _“Go back,”_ She said. The dreadwyrm’s deep voice mixed with her own, producing a sound that was unnatural, but clear. Two of the dragons recoiled in shock. The leader’s eyes narrowed. 

_“The song,”_ It growled. _“We cannot ignore the calls of our Broodlord.”_

 _“Go back,”_ She repeated. _“I have no desire to cause needless pain.”_

But when the leader launched at her with every intention of biting her head off, she didn’t hesitate. Her blade pierced its chest as she dodged out of the way. The creature screeched in a mix of rage and pain, snapping his companions out of their stupor. She yanked the blade out and darted away. The smaller dragons took to the skies, though it was clear that they were only interested in her. The first dove. She swiped it away with a shield before summoning her bow and shooting down another. She dodged away from the larger ones, narrowly diving past the third that seemed unbothered by - or possibly unaware of - the blood gushing from his wound. 

_“They are driven by absolute fealty,”_ Midgar said in her head. _“Nothing short of death will stop them.”_

“Unfortunate,” She said, though her tone was somber. Killing dragons was a touchy subject with Bahamut, but he had long since given up fighting against it. There was a mutual understanding between them that death was preferable to slavery, whether to their own kind or men. Z’iyanna never hesitated when lives were on the line. Z’iyanna’s existence was to protect others, mankind or otherwise. Hesitation got people killed. 

_“How unfortunate,”_ Bahamut said. _“That you did not react as such against your own kind.”_

“Iyanna!” 

Haurchefant landed in front of her as the leader swiped again. Its teeth hit his shield, distracting it long enough that Aymeric could cut through its spine. The dragon howled before toppling into the snow. The other four shrieked in response, rushing for their leader. Both Aymeric and Haurchefant drew back toward her. “I would tell you to be more careful,” Haurchefant said. “But I have long since given up on such a feat.”

“It’s a wonder you follow me at all,” She said. 

“Not many others can handle such a demanding task.”

“I appreciate your chivalry and dedication, Lord Haurchefant.” 

“If there are others,” Aymeric said either unaware of or ignoring their banter. “They will be drawn to the death of one of their own.”

Z’iyanna glanced at Haurchefant who simply nodded as he took a subtle step back. “Then I’ll make this quick,” She said as she reached for her bracelet. Confusion crossed Aymeric’s face, but he caught on and took many steps back. As the dragon’s turned toward her, Z’iyanna clicked the inner ring until the green gem aligned with a gray outer one. It flared to life, and a burst of wind shot snow in all directions. “Garuda,” She whispered. The aether washed over her in an instant. A shrill laughter echoed in her head as ghostly feathers rained down around, vanishing before she touched the ground. She heard Aymeric gasp quietly behind her, but the aether of the fallen primal was enough to tune him out. 

_One blast,_ she thought.

The dragons charged. 

Seconds before they collapsed in, she shot her hands forward. A tornado formed in an instant, encasing all the dragons inside. She heard their cries as the wind gathered, drawing in heaps of snow that swirled with the impossible gray winds. Z’iyanna snapped her hand out. Garuda’s cackling burst in her mind as the wind shot forward like a massive arrow. She felt the magic collide with the creatures caught inside, and heard their dying screams over the howl of the gale-force winds. In another life, she may have closed her eyes or tried to ignore it. But death was no longer something she feared, just as life was no longer something she took for granted. And as the winds dispersed and her eyes fell on the five corpses, she swallowed that small voice that had plagued her for as long as she could remember. 

_Murderer._

A sharp cry grabbed her attention. “Lord Commander,” Haurchefant said as she whipped around. Aymeric had crumbled to one knee, sword hitting the ground beside him. Alarm swept through her as she reached for Thyrus. _Did I hit him?_ Impossible. Haurchefant had seen this before, and he would have protected Aymeric if something had gone wrong. But the Lord Commander was clutching his head in pure agony. 

“Hold on,” She said as she channeled some of her healing magic into her palm. When her hand brushed his chest, however, his eyes snapped open and stared blankly at her. Her own head pulsed with pain. _The Echo?_ She winced, trying to pull herself out of it. Flashes of something crossed her mind, but nothing like her normal visions. When she tried to focus on them, nothing but sounds and quick moments she didn’t recognize came back. “Haurchefant,” She said, but her own voice sounded so far away. A flash of green caught her attention, followed by a few towers of rocks. In another instant, she saw a pair of pale green eyes, followed by laughter. 

_Garuda._

“Haurchefant!” She said again. She was certain he responded, but his words were nothing over the onslaught of sounds and images. Her head pulsed with pain. She tried to pull away, but her body didn’t respond. _Midgar._ She pleaded. _What’s…_

Haurchefant yanked her hand away and her mind snapped out of the blinding visions. Aymeric gasped nearby before coughing violently into the snow. “Are you alright?” Haurchefant said. While he was looking at Aymeric, his hand squeezed around hers. 

“I… don’t…” Aymeric’s voice was shaky at best, but Z’iyanna thought it was due to confusion rather than pain. “I saw… something. I think. I’m uncertain.” As he pulled himself back under control, Z’iyanna forced herself upright, relieved to see that his aether was unharmed. 

_Wait._

Her eyes widened. While she saw aether in everyone, there were very few that held copious amounts of it. None of the other scions had, though Y’sthola had mentioned that she did due to both Hydalen’s blessing and Bahamut’s soul. And mere minutes ago, Aymeric’s was the same as all the rest. Steady and all but invisible. Now, a steady stream of purple aether flickered off of his skin in endless waves, much stronger than his own had been before. Her heart sank when she recognized it. _Bahamut._

 _“I have done nothing, mortal,”_ The dreadwyrm growled. _“I cannot say the same for you.”_

“It seems I could have arrived at a better time.”

All three looked to Einstein, but not a single one of them knew what to say.


	7. At The End of Our Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Haurchefant answers some questions and Z'iyanna meets an old adversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Next week's chapter should be on schedule, but the week after that will be a bit delayed (I will be out of the country for a few days with no laptop).
> 
> Regardless, enjoy! And thank you so much for all the kudos/comments. It really means the world to me to see that ya'll are enjoying the story ^^
> 
> Also fun fact I found particularly hilarious: Auto Correct was absolutely DETERMINED to change Estinien's name to Einstein... something I only caught when reading it through the second time.

_ “Ser Gorgagne was a proud knight and bannerman of House Durendaire, until the fateful day when the heir of that house vanished from sight while under his care, never be seen again. Devastated by the loss of the boy and his own failing, he put aside his blade and built this farm, where he quietly lived out the rest of his days.” _

_ -Gorgagne Mills; Coerthas Western Highlands _

* * *

Aymeric didn’t know how Haurchefant snuck him back into Ishgard without anyone noticing. Granted, his mind had wandered much more in the last hour than it normally did. The whole thing was quite… impressive. Not a single guard stopped them. There were no nobles gossiping en route to the Borel estate, as Haurchefant took all of the possible back roads and unused staircases he could find. And when they  _ did  _ arrive at his home, Haurchefant managed a perfect greeting that drew the manservant’s attention away from the fact that Aymeric’s world was spinning, and convinced him to go make supper instead. Now the two were alone in front of an open fire, with Haurcefant pouring tea that he had made himself and Aymeric trying to make sense of it all.

Honestly, he was rather impressed by Haurchefant’s ingenuity. 

“You need not worry for me, Lord Haurchefant,” Aymeric said as he pried off parts of his armor, relieved at the literal weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Clifort is excellent at his job.”

“I don’t doubt it, Lord Commander,” Haurchefant said as he handed Aymeric a cup of tea. “But he cannot answer the numerous questions that you no doubt have.”

Aymeric chuckled, but he sounded much wearier than he intended. “Considering the situation, I believe that is understandable.”

Haurchefant nodded as he took the chair across from him. Even in Aymeric’s home, and well away from prying eyes, the knight still showed the utmost respect. A part of Aymeric wanted to assure him that it was unnecessary, but Haurchefant would likely dismiss the idea with a smile. “I will answer what I can,” Haurchefant said. “But there are some things that even I cannot explain.”

Aymeric broke his gaze if only to ponder his questions into the depths of his tea. He wouldn’t try and deny that he had plenty to ask, but he wasn’t quite certain how to approach it. After only three days directly in Z’iyanna’s presence (he’d seen her numerous times in passing), he was already at a loss. “I know she is more than capable of protecting herself,” He admitted as he returned the knight’s gaze. “But, I will admit, I had not expected something quite like that.”

Haurchefant chuckled. “She’s been able to do miracles like that for as long as I can remember.”

“Do you know why?”

“Somewhat,” He said. “I am not well-versed in aetherial topics, but I do my best to understand her abilities.” Haurchefant leaned back in his chair, and Aymeric swore the knight’s eyes were clouded in thought. “Lady Z’iyanna is more intune with the world’s aether than most, but it does not manifest in typical magic of something like a Black Mage.”

“She is a healer, is she not?”

Haurchefant nodded. “She is the only White Mage we know of that does not possess Padjal blood. I believe she was a conjurer long before she obtained that Soul Crystal, but she does not speak much about her past.”

“Soul Crystal?”

“She has three that I know of; Paladin, White Mage, and Bard. All of them exist in her mind, and she can draw both her armor and her weapons from aether at any given moment.”

Aymeric couldn’t help but stare. “I hadn’t realized that was possible.”

“Soul crystals are passed from person to person, and usually contain the memories of all those who held it,” Haurchefant continued. “Most can only handle one, but Lady Z’iyanna is different.”

“The wind magic she used,” Aymeric said somewhat slowly. “Was that one of her soul crystals?”

“No,” Haurchefant said. “Z’iyanna’s attunement to the aether is so strong that she draws it to her wherever she goes. For the most part, she can balance her own with whatever she absorbs. But primals are born from an excessive amount of crystals and prayers, which generates a significant mass of aether. Destroy the body containing it, and the aether is released.”

“And she absorbs it?”

“Most of it,” He said. “The first was Ifrit, which nearly burned her alive. The second was Titan, which knocked her unconscious. The Scions recruited a wide variety of specialists to craft a bracelet that could contain the aether without harming her own.” He pointed at his wrist as if it was there. “If she lines up one of the primal crystals with a specialized jewel on the opposite side, she can channel that residual aether for a short amount of time.”

“And it recharges?”

“Possibly,” He said. “She cannot call on more than one crystal at a time, nor can she use multiple in rapid succession. Her theory is that her own aether recharges the crystals, but none of us know for certain.”

Aymeric’s finger tapped absentmindedly on the cup. His mind drifted to the visions, if one could call them that. They were more flashes of something that he was certain didn’t belong to him. Haurchefant leaned forward, dropping his elbows to his knees. When he spoke again, it was quiet. “What did you see, Lord Commander?”

Aymeric said nothing at first as he tried to pull something together. When he was unsuccessful, he simply sighed and said, “The first was a dragon…” his voice trailed off as his eyes widened. “Dalamud,” He said. “The Calamity.” He, like the rest of Eorzea, had seen the dreadwyrm break free all those years ago. And the world still suffered for it. Once thriving lands were left desolate and aether starved. Hundreds, if not thousands of lives were lost in the clash. While many had moved on, the scars of the Calamity remained. But he had seen it from a distance. That image had been up close; the memory of someone who’d been standing beneath it. 

“Anything else?” Haurchefant said. 

“I worry you may think me insane,” Aymeric said in an attempt to hide his own apprehension. 

“That is one thing I’ve learned from my travels with Lady Z’iyanna,” Haurchefant said. “Nothing is impossible in this strange world of ours.”

Aymeric nodded. “There was a second being. A woman of sorts, surrounded by a tornado like the one Lady Z’iyanna summoned. And she was laughing… a screeching cackle that might just haunt my dreams.” He shook his head. “There was a flash of light, but nothing after that.”

Haurchefant hummed in thought as his brows furrowed. “Have you had visions like these before?”

“No.”

“Have you ever manipulated aether?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Aymeric said. “I distinctly remember my Commander telling me that I had as much of a chance at becoming a mage as a Paissa learning to fly.”

Haurchefant chuckled, but his gaze was distant. “It sounds like the Echo.”

“The… Echo?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Haurchefant said. “But if it is the Echo… then the real question is how you obtained it.”

A fierce knock on the door startled them both. “My apologies, Ser,” Clifort said. “But Lady Lucia requires your assistance at the Congregation.”

That wasn’t good. “It seems we’ll have to continue this conversation another time.”

“No worries,” Haurchefant said as he stood with a quick salute. “I need to prepare Lady Z’iyanna’s room for her return. It’s best you speak to her about all of this anyway.”

Aymeric couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m glad you’ve found your calling, Lord Haurchefant”

Haurchefant paused, but Aymeric didn’t miss the fond smile before he turned to leave. “I will admit,” he said. “I am luckier than most.”

* * *

Z’iyanna was tired, weary, and slowly losing her patience, but she was doing her best to hide it. 

“Are you sure your intel is correct?” She said after what felt like hours of silence. But she knew from the sun in the sky and common sense that it had been, at most, thirty minutes. 

“Yes,” Estinien said. As plain and blunt as usual. She respected the Azure Dragoon, and he her. The two had fought on more than one occassion, and she was proud to say she had beaten him at least twice. Though she often kept that to herself, as she had no interest in ruining the acquaintanceship between them. But it didn’t mean she always  _ liked  _ him. He was nothing like Haurchefant; a rather cold man of very few words who was more likely to stab someone with his lance then seek a peaceful alternative. 

Imagine her surprise when he asked her to help him track down Lady Iceheart. Not to kill her as Z’iyanna had almost done once before, but to talk. 

“While I do believe you,” She said as she pushed Zephyr up to the dragoon’s side. “I need to check on Ser Aymeric before nightfall.” She tried to act casual, but Aymeric’s condition after her impromptu aether usage had worried her. She’d tried asking Midgar about what she’d seen, but the elder dragon had remained infuriatingly silent to the point that even Bahamut had laughed at her. 

Estinien's head turned toward her. But, considering that his lips were always in a tight line, she couldn’t tell exactly  _ how _ he was looking at her. Though his next words were spoken in pure amusement. “The Lord Commander is safe with your knight.”

“H-He’s not my…” She trailed off, almost certain by the twitch of his lips that he had raised an eyebrow somewhere under all that armor. Instead, she lifted her chin and rode past him. “I know that.” She heard a chuckle as she did so, but he didn’t argue. 

On a normal day, she would have been fine wandering around on a Chocobo’s back, exploring this new world of hers, no matter how arguably plain and dreary it was. Zephyr was proving to be an invaluable companion, and hadn’t left her side since he’d been given to her. She had even been forced to bribe him to stay in the stables overnight, as he’d startled at least two maids trying to find her bedroom window. Her former chocobo, the old, timid, Starlight that had been named long before they met, hadn’t been able to travel to most places Z’iyanna needed her to.

Then Z’iyanna met Twin, and the poor Chocobo left for good. It was probably for the best, as Twin had attempted to eat other creatures on multiple occasions; chocobos included. 

“There have been multiple reports of heretics in both Falcon’s Nest and the Convictory,” Estinien said. “They’ve only attacked those who have come close to this area, and there have been no concentrated efforts to attack either of the two locations.”

“So they’re likely being cautious.”

“Exactly.”

“But why build a hideout here?” She said. “From what I’ve heard of this place, the weather’s abysmal. They can’t grow much food. The water’s frozen, and hundreds of Ishgardian knights could swarm them at any time.”

“And yet,” Estinien said. “They haven’t been found.”

Z’iyanna frowned. “True.” She didn’t know as much about the heretics as she would like. All were loyal to Lady Iceheart - Ysayle, as Z’iyanna prefered to call her. For one’s true name was often more important than a title, even when spoken in veneration. Most had partaken of dragon’s blood, and many embraced the transformation with open arms. While Z’iyanna wasn’t one to judge one’s beliefs, she knew the blood alone was enough to destroy any life one might have had in Ishgard. 

Though considering the state of the Brume… she wasn’t surprised many had resorted to such a thing. 

“I could scream our intentions to the heavens if you’d like,” Z’iyanna said. “Though I assumed our presence would be enough, given my history with Shiva.”

“Indeed,” Estinien said. She almost wanted to roll her eyes, but then she caught sight of a building she hadn’t noticed before. She tugged gently on Zephyr’s reigns, and the chocobo stopped in a heartbeat. “What is that?” She said as Estinien halted his own mount beside her. It was a three story home made of brick with tall silo beside it. There were remnants of an old fence in the snow, but there were only a few posts left. The building itself was in impeccable shape, given its location, as the slanted roof tiles and immaculate stone exterior looked almost new. Sharp icicles hung from every ledge, but not the typical ones she had seen in Falcon’s Nest. These were swirling with light blue aether; the kind of aether that no one but her could see. 

“Gorgagne Mills,” Estinien said. “It was abandoned years ago after its owner died in the Calamity.”

“A mill?” She said. “You mean a place someone could feasibly grow and store food?”

His head tilted to look at her. “That would be it.”

Her eyes drifted back to the building. This time, she saw more aether flicker out into the snow, as if calling for her. And maybe it was. A primal’s aether was strong, but often uncontrolled due to their mental states. Shiva’s was contained in a single, strong body. One that, as far as Z’iyanna was aware, had not yet lost her mind. “She’s there,” She said softly and almost without thinking. 

“Then other heretics will be as well.” Estinien hopped off his chocobo and held his hand to her. “Leave him with me. We’ll make sure no one inturrupts you.”

While she did take his hand to slide safely into the snow, she frowned at him on the way down. “I’d rather we leave with as few bodies as possible.”

“I would not have brought you if I intended to kill anyone.”

“You brought me because you cannot risk being tempered by a primal.”

“Believe what you will, Lady Z’iyanna.” The way he said her name was almost hostile. That was a tone she was more used to from most of the people in her life, but one she hadn’t heard in awhile. “Shiva is the only primal to have escaped your execution, is she not?”

_ No,  _ Z’iyanna thought. “Her control over the aether was stronger than I realized,” She said. “Other primals didn’t have vessels to return to.” 

“Then she may be willing to speak with you.”

More tendrils of aether seeped out through the snow. “Possibly,” Z’iyanna said, though she was certain that was Ysayle’s wish. She knew from their battle that Ysayle could feel Z’iyanna’s aether as well as Z’iyanna could feel hers. Whether it was a connection to Hydaelyn or something else, Z’iyanna wasn’t sure. But she still remembered the way the woman looked at her before beginning her transformation. Not a look of pity, but of something close to reverence. 

_ You and I are more alike than you know, Warrior of Light. _

She had never said it, but Z’iyanna was certain Ysayle knew of the being in her soul. That knowledge alone might be more dangerous than anything she could do as a primal. But she hadn’t told anyone, as far as Z’iyanna knew. At least, no one of any significance. Considering how angry she had been at her defeat- and the conviction Ysayle had shown for her cause- Z’iyanna wasn’t sure why the elezen had held on to such information. 

Unless Ysayle wanted her in Ishgard. And given the ever growing aether around her, Z’iyanna didn’t doubt it for a second. 

_ “They move blindly…”  _ Ysyale had said. “ _ Trapped in a delusion of their own creation and blind to the truth.” _

_ “Redemption is not beyond us… and I had dared to dream that you would be better.”  _

“Go,” Estinien said. “I will keep watch.”

With a curt node, Z’iyanna hopped down a series of rocks and onto the more compact snow below. Now she was certain someone - likely multiple people - had been there recently. But with no sign of heretics, and the blue aether practically begging her to follow, she moved quickly into the mill. Shiva’s magic followed after her, vanishing as it touched the cobblestones. But Z’iyanna instinctively went for the stairs, and was rewarded with the pale blue eyes of an elezen she never thought she’d see again. Especially not so soon.

“Welcome, Warrior of Light.” While Ysayle’s greeting was genuine, her tone was somber. She was exhausted, maybe upset, though who that was directed toward was anyone’s guess. Her appearance hadn’t changed much; blue robe split down the center below the waist, long silver hair, and skin as pale as the snow outside. 

_ “They are all pawns of a bigger game they don’t realize they are playing.” _

“Ysayle,” Z’iyanna said somewhat awkwardly. But the woman’s lips twitched in a smile, as if she was happy Z’iyanna remembered her at all. “I’ve been asked to speak with you.”

“My followers have been asked to leave this place for the time being,” Ysayle said. “Your friend will not find anyone to deal with.”

“I appreciate your foresight.”

Z’iyanna saw a flicker of surprise on the elezen’s face before she buried it. “You have changed since our last encounter.”

“I respect conviction,” Z’iyanna said as she crossed her arms. “Though you cannot blame me for fighting a primal after all that has happened.”

“No, I cannot,” Ysayle agreed. “I should never have pushed you to that point. For that, I apologize.” She bowed slightly before meeting her gaze again. “While I am grateful for the power Saint Shiva has provided me, I need powerful allies, not unbeatable enemies.”

While Z’iyanna appreciated the acknowledgment, she didn’t say it. “I won’t lie to you,” She said. “I don’t yet know which side I'm on. But I am willing to listen and learn, assuming you are willing to control your followers and forgo any summonings for the moment.”

“We only seek to defend ourselves,” Ysayle said. “For the moment, at least. Have you asked the same of the Lord Commander?”

Z’iyanna hesitated. How much information should she give? As far as she was concerned, Haurchefant, Aymeric, the remaining Scions, and probably Esitinien were her only  _ true  _ allies. Neither Ishgard or the heretics were her enemies at the moment. But sharing information about the other could spell disaster. 

“I can assure you that anything you say in this place will remain with me,” Ysayle said. 

That didn’t quite help, but Z’iyanna could feel the woman’s sincerity. And her instincts were rarely wrong; Ul’dah incident aside. "Ser Aymeric does not have as much sway in the Archbishop's decisions as we had hoped.” That was a bit of an understatement considering all that had happened, but it would suffice. 

Ysayle nodded, but her expression hardened ever so slightly. “Ishgard needs salvation,” She said. “I had hoped to avoid violence, but the plight of the forlorn will never change if left to the devices of Thordan and his guard.” The vitriol in the woman’s voice was palpable, but Z’iyanna remained silent. “Their power is built on centuries of lies, and I’m certain most of them know it."

Z'iyanna suddenly wished she'd asked Haurchefant or Aymeric more about Ishgardian politics. At least then she would have something to go off of. "I'm listening." 

"Our war against the dragons began when the wyrm Nidhogg killed the first Archbishop centuries ago," Ysayle said. "But for the dragons, it started much earlier than that: when the Archbishop and his holy knights murdered Nidhogg's brood sister, Ratatosker." 

Z'iyanna’s eyes widened, and she swore she heard a quiet growl from both Midgar and Bahamut. "How do you know this?" 

Ysayle placed a hand on her chest. "Mother’s blessing, and the power of Saint Shiva have opened my eyes to the truth." 

Z'iyanna bit back a response, though that all but confirmed her suspicions. While Midgar had suppressed Hydalen's gift within her, the mother crystal still spoke to Ysayle. "There was peace for a time,” Ysayle continued. “After Saint Shiva allowed her beloved, Hrasvelger, to consume her, Ishgard and the dragons lived in harmony. But fear destroyed that alliance. Now, Nidhogg and our people's own ignorance will destroy us all."

_ "Your goals are admirable, child."  _

Z'iyanna nearly jumped out of her skin when Midgar appeared beside her. Even Haurchefant, who believed Z'iyanna's tales of the dragon king, had never seen the dragon himself. Midgar was much too stubborn for that. 

Ysayle gasped. "Midgardsormr…" 

_ "You both possess the Echo," _ the dragon continued _. "But the paths you walk are vastly different."  _

"I never wanted destruction," Ysayle said. "I thought my followers could control the blood within them, but I underestimated the ferocity of dragons." 

_ "They are driven by the song,"  _ Midgar said.  _ "And Nidhogg has not yet sung its final chorus." _

A flurry of voices echoed from outside. "She must be here!" A man proclaimed. "Lady Iceheart will fall today." 

Z'iyanna muttered a curse. "Go," She said. "I will deal with them" 

Ysayle watched her for a long moment. "I hope we get to speak again, Warrior of Light. But if you put your faith in Ishgard, I'm afraid I will have no choice." 

"I have no patience for lies and corruption," Z'iyanna said. "And I know better than to seek the truth where it will never be found." 

Relief flooded Ysayle's face. "Find my followers,” She said “Show them the piece you took from me, and they will handle the rest." 

Z'iyanna watched as the woman left before her eyes drifted to the gleaming, ice blue gem nestled in her bracelet. 


	8. Knights Be Not Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alphinaud comes up with a plan, and Z'iyanna is left with many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad I was able to get this out before I leave. My main editor wasn't available, so I had a friend stop in (tysm friend T_T). Also did some edits myself so hopefully its all good!
> 
> I'll see ya again next week :D

_“To compensate for this diminutive stature, he chooses to wield a massive greatsword- the traditional weapon of Dark Knights… At one time, he was the favored candidate for the position of Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, but in an unexpected turn of events, the title was bequeathed to Ser Aymeric instead.”_

_-Ser Zephirin de Valhourdin_

* * *

Alphinaud had been thrilled by the letter, but less so by the skittish elezen in front of him. Auseleix looked completely out of place in the Lord Commander’s seat. The chair was too big. The desk was too long and slightly too tall. The various quills and papers, while completely normal, seemed made for a giant when Auseleix's hands got close. A single stack of envelopes in the center would certainly bury the man if it toppled over. Even Alphinaud, who was much shorter than an average elezen, would probably look better in the same predicament. At least _he_ wouldn’t be slouching in his chair. 

The Heaven’s Ward knight beside him wasn’t much better. But Zephirin was clearly in a foul mood, and Alphinaud was not eager to cross him a second time. At least Lucia was there for some kind of moral support. Though she looked about as enthused as the knight across the room.

“State your business,” Auseleix said, his voice shaking as it echoed off the walls.

“My apologies, Ser,” Alphinaud said. “I was brought in to speak with the Lord Commander.”

“You’re speaking to him,” Zephirin said.

Alphinaud took a quiet, but a somewhat shaky breath. While Alphinaud hadn’t met the man until now, he had hoped Auseleix wouldn’t be quite as “in control” as he was already. Though that was a loose definition, as the Heaven’s Ward was clearly in charge; not that any of them would admit it. “I had been told…”

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve been told,” Zephirin said. “State your business, or leave.”

Alphinaud hesitated. Aymeric would have understood his request. These men would either laugh him out of the room. Or, worse, accuse him of heresy for even considering leaving after all their hospitality. But he had to try. He needed to get to Limsa quickly, or he might lose his chance at meeting with its leader. “I humbly request that…”

The doors behind him burst open so suddenly that Alphinaud almost hit the ceiling. “That’s enough,” Aymeric said as he strode toward his desk, only nodding to Lucia. Zephirim scowled at the clear insult, but Auseleix panicked rush to leave the Lord Commander’s seat turned the knight’s fury on him instead. 

“A Lord Commander should act more dignified,” He hissed. 

“I am,” Aymeric said as he sat back in his chair. “Your services are no longer required.”

Zephirin’s rage spun on Aymeric, but the Lord Commander met his gaze with a calm look that was oddly unsettling. Alphinaud admired Aymeric’s confidence, though he assumed that was one of the reasons the Archbishop was trying to replace him. “I will send word when Ser Auseleix is needed again.”

The second time the door opened, _everyone_ in the room was surprised. Z’iyanna let it slam behind her, eyes drifting over the occupants. She nodded to Alphinaud with an encouraging smile, before turning back to Aymeric. “Lord Commander,” She said. There was no bow, though Alphinaud was certain that the Archbishop himself could fall from the heavens and she wouldn’t spare him more than a glance. “I need to speak with you.”

“Oh good,” Ser Zephirin said. His armor creaked as he crossed his arms. “Ser Aymeric’s house cat has graced us with her presence.”

Her head tilted in thought, but her tail flicked in annoyance. “My apologies,” She said. “If I had known I was meeting one of the Archbishop’s hounds, I would have sharpened my claws.”

The knight’s jaw clenched, Auseleix’s dropped, and Aymeric’s eyes widened in surprise. Lucia’s lips twitched in an almost smile. “Watch yourself,” Zephirin said as he stopped inches from her., bur Z’iyanna barely had to lift her chin to meet his gaze. “You’re not as invincible as you think.”

“Neither are you.” She looked back to Aymeric. “As an official ward of House Borel, I humbly request a meeting with my guardian.” Her eyes flickered back to Zephirin. “I’m sure you understand what that means, Ser Zephirin. But in case you don’t, the Ishgardian Cus-”

“I know what they say." The animosity between Z’iyanna and Zephirin crackled in the air itself. If Alphinaud weren’t used to the pressure of Z’iyanna’s presence, he might have stepped far away from them both. 

Unsurprisingly, it was Auseleix who rushed to the door. “We have other business to attend to,” He said as he stood as straight and proud as possible. He wasn’t fooling anyone, but an irritated Zephirin followed him all the same. 

“Now,” Z’iyanna said as she brushed off her sleeves. “I have a lot to share with all of you.” She glanced at Alphinaud first. “But I heard you may have something more important.”

“A letter,” He said as he yanked it out of his pocket so fast he almost tore it. He’d fret over his overenthusiasm later. “From Merlywb.”

Z’iyanna’s eyes widened, but she held her relaxed stance. “And?”

“She has information on Raubahn,” Alphinaud said. “Assuming I understood her message correctly.” The letter had been heavily edited, and written in a way that anyone unaware of the situation would have thought it a simple, friendly correspondence from a simple soldier. Estinien’s hint, and Tataru’s familiarity with the city leader’s mannerisms, had taught Alphinaud everything he needed to know. “I need to speak to her as quickly as possible.”

“You?” Lucia said with sharp raise of her eyebrow. “She did not ask for the Warrior of Light.”

Alphinaud hesitated. “She didn’t specify.” The letter had mentioned “the Scions”, but not the Warrior of Light herself. Alphinaud had assumed that’s who Merlwyb wanted, but Alphinaud was determined to handle it himself. “It’s too risky for Z’iyanna to go.”

“It’s just as risky for you,” Z’iyanna said. 

“The Crystal Braves are all in Ul’dah.”

“As far as you know.”

“I can do this,” Alphinaud said. He stopped to catch his breath, instantly regretting how desperate he’d sounded. When he caught Z’iyanna’s gaze, he almost flinched away from the sheer intensity. But unlike Zephirin, who exuded nothing but fury, Z’iyanna’s was a look of pure concern. Alphinaud didn’t blame her. His actions over the last few weeks (or lack thereof, if he was honest with himself) hadn’t inspired much confidence. “I know it’s risky,” He said, relieved when his voice sounded diplomatic. It wasn’t as strong as he had been with the Crystal Braves, but it was a start. “But they need you here, and this is my chance to fix my mistakes.”

Z’iyanna’s silence was terrifying, but he held himself together. It was Aymeric who spoke. “I can’t promise an airship,” he said. “But I can give you the fastest chocobos we have, and safe passage to the city itself.”

Alphinaud nodded. “All assistance is welcome.”

“I’ll speak with Haurchefant,” Z’iyanna said.

Alphinaud took a long, startled step back. “What?”

“Very few people know what he looks like,” Z’iyanna said. “As long as he uses a different name, no one will bat an eye. And he’s used to quick travels.”

 _Of course._ Alphinaud didn’t know exactly where Haurchefant had gone, but he’d been practically glued to Z’iyanna’s side since she absorbed Bahamut over a year ago. For all Alphinaud knew, Haurchefant had seen more of Eorzea than he had ever dreamed of. 

He swallowed a hint of inadequacy as he nodded to her. “I’ll leave the rest to you then.”

“Besides,” Z’iyanna said. “I need to go to Gridania.”

Even Lucia was taken aback. “I don’t believe that is wise.”

Z’iyanna shook her head. “I’m aware of that, but I don’t have much of a choice.” There was a moment of hesitation before she turned to Aymeric. “I need to speak to Y’mitha, and letters won’t be enough.”

Aymeric glanced at Lucia. “Who is she?” Lucia said. 

“Y’shtola’s sister,” Z’iyanna said. “She knows more about aether than I do.”

Alphinaud swore Aymeric’s eyes closed for the briefest of moments. “Would a visit from myself achieve what you are hoping for?”

“I…” Z’iyanna went quiet, pondering. After a long moment, she nodded. “If I can send a few letters, then yes. It would actually be better, considering the circumstances.”

Alphinaud felt like he was missing something really important, and was only mildly relieved by the confusion in Lucia’s eyes. But Aymeric was clearly aware of whatever Z’iyanna was talking about, as he rose from his desk and looked to his second-in-command. “Our new Lord Commander has never been outside of Ishgard,” He said. “Maybe we can arrange something.”

“The Archbishop will never allow it,” Lucia said. 

“The Gridanian’s know more about Garuda than we do,” Aymeric said. “A primal threat might be enough.”

“Even you have only left these walls for a moment,” Lucia said. “And you only went to the highlands.”

Alphinaud’s mind started racing in a way it hadn’t in months. “What if you went on a mission with Z’iyanna instead?”

All three looked to him, but it was surprisingly easy to bury most of his anxiety. “That Archbishop commanded you to go where she does, yes? Then maybe you could take her on a tour of the Sea of Clouds.”

Aymeric leaned back ever so slightly. “That could work,” He said. “But I would need a loyal group of knights to run the airship, or the archbishop will know.”

“Cid,” Z’iyanna murmured. “Is he still in Mor Dhona?”

“If he had to run…”

She shook her head. “I’ll deal with the messages, and let you know as soon as I get anything back.” She drifted toward the door before she looked back to Alphinaud. “I’ll speak with Haurchefant. Do what you need to prepare for your trip, and if something goes wrong, I will be there.” She paused at the handle, turned, and offered a slight, awkward bow in Aymeric’s direction. “Thank you for your time, Lord Commander.”

She left before he responded, clearly lost in her own thoughts. Hastily, Alphinaud bowed himself. “By your leave.”

Aymeric smiled. “No need to be so formal.”

“Unless the dogs are around,” Lucia muttered. “But you already know that.”

Alphinaud flinched. “Unfortunately.”

  
  


* * *

Z’iyanna found Haurchefant in the stables, certain that he’d been waiting there since he’d led Aymeric home. “I hope you’re not too cold, Lord Haurchefant.” She said as she brushed Zephyr’s feathers fondly. The bird cooed, ruffling his feathers just enough to throw soap in all directions. “Whoops,” Z’iyanna said with a blush. “I forgot how… excited you get.”

Haurchefant laughed, wiping the soap from his face before returning to the Chocobo. “I am immune to the cold, my Lady.”

“I’d believe it.” She pulled a small pile of letters out of her pocket and, after checking that they were the only ones around, whistled a low song. 

A Moogle spun into existence, one she didn’t recognize. Though she wasn’t surprised. The Postmoogle network was massive, and she’d have to get lucky to see the same one twice. “You called, kupo?” The Moogle said. 

“Three messages today.” Z’iyanna handed them out. “Urgent.”

The Moogle glanced through them for mere seconds before nodding in pure happiness. “Easy!” He said. “I’ll have them out by the end of the hour.” He darted away, vanishing into the aether in a way that only Moogles could. 

“What do you need from me?” Haurchefant said as he gently brushed through Zephyr’s feathers. 

“You mean more than setting up my room, cleaning my Chocobo, taking care of someone that may or may not be linked to my aether, and just generally being around to do anything even if I don’t ask it of you?”

He chuckled. “Yes.” She slid past Zephyr and held out her hand. Haurchefant gave her the brush, but grabbed a second one before she could protest. Z’iyanna clicked her tongue in slight annoyance, but accepted it and worked on what he’d already half-finished. Z’iyanna liked to think she was a capable person, even with “menial tasks” such as this one. Most of the people she knew likely thought she was best at such things, as they usually sent her on an endless amount of them between her raids on Garlean bases and killing primals. 

Since Haurchefant had joined her, he’d taken over a vast majority of them, and often finished things long before she knew someone had asked for it. And she had protested early. Except he was arguably more stubborn than her, and she’d given up after a few weeks. Apparently, he enjoyed such things, and she’d be lying if she didn’t appreciate the precious, extra time his help had given her. 

It didn’t stop her from worrying about him. 

“Alphinaud needs help,” Z’iyanna always tried to act as confident. Especially around other people. But Haurchefant was one of the few who saw the rare, vulnerable side of her. The one that hesitated when asking close friends to go on missions that she should be doing herself. “It would be best if I go with him… but…”

“Where are you sending me?”

He was always so straightforward. Maybe even more confident than her. Z’iyanna never understood why he agreed to things so easily. He knew by now how dangerous her life was. Yet, he never wavered in his commitment to her cause.

Maybe commitment to _her_ was more accurate, but neither of them had addressed that particular thought. 

“He is heading to Limsa as soon as it is safe to do so,” She said. “Merlywb has information on Raubahn, and assures us that Limsa and Gridiana are still on our side.”

Haurchefant hummed in thought. “It’s still not safe for you.”

“Alphinaud came to the same conclusion.” She moved toward Zephyr’s neck, lost in thought. “I will be going to the Sea of Clouds once I get notice back from Kan-E-Senna, and sending Ayermic to Y’mithra.”

“That is wise.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He saw one of your memories, as far as I’m aware.” Haurcefant brushed off Zephyr’s beak. “Bahamut the first time. Garuda the second.”

“Our aether connected somehow,” She said. “His is… all wrong now.”

“Dangerous?”

She shook her head. “It feels like mine, in a way. But if he is unaware of it, then it’s stabilizing on its own. But I want a second opinion. At the very least, Y’mithra could show him how to channel it better than I can.”

Haurchefant chuckled. “You’d rather not deal with the carbuncles again, my Lady?”

She scowled. “Tataru had more luck than I did, and hers ran away.”

“Are you concerned about Ser Aymeric’s safety?”

Z’iyanna sighed. “I need more answers. But if he’s absorbing my aether, then it’s a risk for him to be anywhere near me.”

“But that isn’t an option.”

“The Archbishop,” She mutters. “He must know something. Why else would he send Aymeric with me? As terrible as it sounds, there are much easier ways to get rid of him.”

“A majority of Ishgard likes the Lord Commander,” Haurchefant said. “As far as they know, his travels with you is a matter of security. And if something were to happen to him…”

Her mood soured. “They’d blame me.”

Haurchefant pat Zephyr once before moving to her side. “It’s an unfortunate circumstance for everyone involved.”

Z’iyanna sighed. She should have expected this. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t even _considered_ it. Of course, someone like the Archbishop would try to use her like that. And if the rich, Ul’dah merchants could use her so easily, of course, the Archbishop could. If anything, he was being even more brazen about it. As if he wanted her to find out.

_Maybe he did._

“What are the chances they’ll let me speak to the Archbishop?”

“Incredibly low,” Haurchefant said. “Most of us have never seen him aside from the occasional proclamation. As far as I know, he’s never left the Vault.” His hand moved toward hers for a split second, but fell back to his side before she had a chance to think about it. “If he wants to speak with you, he will. But I would suggest avoiding his ire. Especially if you’re sending all of your companions away.”

“I have a feeling I’ve drawn his attention already.” She hesitated and dropped her tone as quiet as possible. “I spoke to Iceheart, but I need more information.”

Slowly, Haurchefant nodded. No more words were needed. “Y’mithra will know something,” Haurchefant said as if nothing had happened. “If she could create something so unbelievable as your bracelet, she can help Ser Aymeric. And I will take care of Lord Alphinaud.” He placed his hand on his heart and bowed ever so slightly; something he only ever did around her. “I promise, my Lady.”

For the first time that conversation, she realized how painful her heart was as it pounded against her chest. She’d already lost nearly all of her friends when she’d failed the Scions. Now she was throwing everyone she cared for right back into the fire again. But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t be everywhere at once. Especially not if Raubahn was involved. She was certain she would be welcome in Gridania, but she hated the idea of risking a relationship between Kan-E-Senna and whoever had taken control in Ul’dah for her sake. And she had a terrible feeling that the moment she left Ishgard, the already fragile thread holding the city together would crumble. 

Haurchefant’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. “You need not carry the world on your shoulders, Z’iyanna,” He said. “That’s what I... _We_ are here for.”

After a deep, slow breath, she nodded. “Be safe.”

“I will come find you as soon as we return.”

Zephyr head-butted him with something akin to an offended grumble. Both of them laughed and reached for the Chocobo’s neck. Both froze when his hand landed on top of hers. It was much warmer than she expected, though she hadn’t seen him often without his gauntlets. Come to think of it, she rarely came to him without gloves on either. She’d slipped them off without thinking on the way over. And now…

They both pulled away, and she noticed a faint tinge of red on the tips of his ears. “My apologies,” He said. 

“It’s alright.” She said with a quiet chuckle. “I’ll take care of him from here.”

Haurchefant nodded and, after a moment of hesitation, left. Z’iyanna let out a shaky breath as she reached for her chest. Zephyr kwed with a tilt of his head. “Yeah, yeah,” She muttered “You’re not the first person to say that, and you won’t be the last.”

Her eyes landed on a glitter of red in a pile of snow outside. Surprised, she patted Zephyr’s neck before moving to it. When her fingers brushed the stone, a jolt of electricity shot through her. She tumbled backward, but her hand had already locked firmly around the stone. _A soul crystal?_ The black-ish, purple diamond with the red outline of a greatsword. It shimmered in her hand, but… nothing happened. Surprised, she turned it over. Usually, by now, a soul crystal would have given her some memories to pull off of. A few techniques related to whatever it was or whoever last held it. But this one was completely silent. 

Then, it vanished, but she heard a small undeniable click in her mind. When she tried to reach for its power, however, it pushed back, as if locking itself off.

_You are not ready for that yet, Warrior of Light._

She spun around, sword in hand even before she landed on her feet. But there was nothing aside from concerned Chocobos and gentle snowflakes swaying in the frigid air.


	9. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphinaud finds new determination, Haurchefant learns something unfortunate, and Aymeric meets an interesting new ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! My apologies for not being able to get a chapter up last week. A lot of things happened after the trip @.@
> 
> That being said, we're back on schedule now, and I hope you enjoy :) Next weeks when things really start kicking off again.

It would seem that  Raubahn is to be executed for crimes against the sultanate. Determined not to lose yet another ally, Alphinaud resolves to do everything in his power to rescue the deposed Flame General.

-Disclosure

* * *

Alphinaud never saw himself as an adventurer. While he had traveled with Alisaie on numerous occasions - as she was never one to sit still - he had always been the planner. The twin that stood in the background, compiled information, and made sure they always ended up in the right place. Naturally, he’d done the same thing once he’d joined the Scions. The others traveled, and Z’iyanna was always wherever she needed to be. Alphinaud was content to sit in the back and deal with all of the paperwork.

The journey to Limsa Lominsa certainly hadn’t changed his perspective on the matter. If anything, it reinforced his desire to handle things from a distance. It didn’t help that Haurchefant was a natural traveler and was genuinely excited at every point. The long Chocobo ride to Mor Dhona was “a relaxing journey”. The boat ride to Limsa Lominsa was “a chance to see new sights”. Even the chaotic walk through the Limsian crowds was a “nice escape from the cold citizens of Ishgard.” And while Alphinaud wanted to be baffled at the other Elezen’s boundless optimism, he really wasn’t. The man had been traveling with Z’iyanna for almost a year now, and Alphinaud was certain Haurchefant had seen far more than Alphinaud ever would.

Now, on the boat ride back from a successful trip to Limsa Lominsa, Alphinaud’s attention was divided between Merlywb’s words and keeping his lunch down. 

“Raubahn is being moved soon,” he muttered more to himself than anyone around him. But Haurchefant, who was standing nearby, hummed in acknowledgment. “But nobody knows where he’ll end up.”

“The Crystal Braves are likely involved.”

Alphinaud’s mood soured even more at the reminder. “I’d hoped to hear more about the Scions, but even Merlywb’s network hasn’t heard anything.” There had been some hope, however, as she had mentioned the Doman shinobis. Alphinaud had been terrified that they too had been forced to scatter, or were possibly killed in the betrayal. In hindsight, that was impossible. They were loyal to the Scions, yes, but they respected Z’iyanna even more. And Merlywb had assured him that many had managed to escape the chaos caused by the Crystal Braves; a small relief he sorely needed. 

“One thing at a time,” Haurchefant said as he leaned forward on the railing. “My father will be happy to assist you with any formal correspondence, but be careful what you write.” 

“Because the Heaven’s Ward is always watching?”

“Among others.”

Alphinaud made a note to talk to Tataru as soon as they got back. “They’ll likely try to execute him.” While Alphinaud hoped that he was wrong, his instincts (and the endless string of nerves in the pit of his stomach) knew the truth. But there was a glimmer of hope, as Raubahn was still in his cell. And as long as he stayed there, Alphinaud could figure something out. 

“Will you ask for Lady Z’iyanna’s help?”

The younger Elezen stiffened. “She has enough to worry about.”

Haurchefant’s features were soft, but his gaze was fierce. “And if you need to fight?”

“I will find those who can help,” he snapped, before immediately biting his tongue and tearing his gaze away. “This is my fault, and I will do everything in my power to fix it.” He refused to look at Haurchefant, as he was certain he couldn’t hide the fear gnawing at his heart. There was a lot he didn’t know, and a lot of people he needed to track down. There were letters to be sent, information to gather… and he didn’t have much time. “I will fix this,” he repeated.

“Haurchefant!”

Alphinaud jumped as a Moogle spun into existence next to Haurchefant. The Elezen didn’t seem the least bit surprised and only raised an eyebrow in the Moogle's general direction. “What is it?”

The Moogle spoke to Haurchefant in hushed whispers as he managed to dig a letter out of his bag. Alphinaud looked away again, as he had a feeling the Moogle thought he couldn’t see it. But that didn’t bother him as much as the flicker of worry on Haurchefant’s face as his eyes scanned the letter. 

“I cannot write a letter at the moment,” He said as he folded the parchment. “But can you deliver a message to my father?”

“Sure thing, kupo!”

“Tell him that Z’iyanna is already in the Sea of Clouds, and I am on my way to meet her.” 

“You got it, kupo!”

The Moogle spun once and vanished. Haurchefant sighed as he turned to Alphinaud. “My brother is missing,” Haurchefant said. “They suspect that the Vanu are involved.”

“Are you worried?” 

Haurchefant’s eyes didn’t leave the letter in his hand. “I’m certain Z’iyanna can handle the Vanu if she needs to, though my concern is with their primal.” He shook his head and continued before Alphinaud had a chance to ask. “Cid promised to return as soon as he took his charge to Gridania. I’m certain he will get there in time.” But even as he said it, his brows furrowed just enough that Alphinaud didn’t quite believe it. 

“We could try the aetheryte,” Alphinaud said. “I won't be able to get you to the Sea of Clouds, but I can at least take us back to Ishgard.”

“Forgive me, Lord Alphinaud,” Haurchefant said. “But Z’iyanna has never been able to take me along with her, so I fear you may not fare much better.”

That was both an entirely fair and true assumption, though Alphinaud couldn’t hide the flinch at the reminder. Though if even Z’iyanna couldn’t do it, then why did he feel so miserable? “Regardless,” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The sooner we head out, the better. Won’t do us any good to wait around here.”

“Quite right,” Haurchefant turned to speak to one of the crew members. Alphinaud heard a small thunk at his feet. Surprised, he reached down to pluck a small, silver item from the deck. For a long moment, he wasn’t quite certain what he was looking at. Then he realized it was a  _ ring. _ A beautiful one at that. The craftmanship was immaculate, with something akin to scales etched into the band. The blue gem was exquisite and glimmered so brightly that the owner clearly took great care of it. He doubted it was something crafted in Limsa Lominsa (though there were certainly skilled metalsmiths around). Maybe the goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah? That might be the best way to find the owner but…

“Lord Alphinaud?”

His eyes snapped up to Haurchefant, and his smile almost unnerved him. The Elezen was always so calm and cheerful. He was also incredibly difficult to read and gave absolutely nothing away. Alphinaud suspected that Z’iyanna could probably pick up on some things he didn’t, but that wouldn’t help him now. “My apologies,” He said. “I found this, but didn’t see who…”

Haurchefant’s eyes widened just slightly as he held his hand out. “It seems I packed something I hadn’t planned to.”

Alphinaud blinked. “This is yours?”

“Correct,” Haurchefant said as he took it. “For now, at least.”

“Well…” Alphinaud said, though he had no real response for that. “I’m glad I found out.”

“And I sincerely thank you for that,” Haurchefant said with a sincere bow. “But I believe its time we head back to Ishgard. I’ve already spoken with a Postmoogle here, and a letter will be sent to another in Ul’dah. Any information you need will be delivered posthaste.”

Alphinaud could only stare as the Haurchefant tucked the ring in a safe pocket and returned to his conversation with the crew.

* * *

The moment Aymeric arrived in Gridania, he was relieved he’d taken Z’iyanna’s advice to change into cleric’s robes during the trip. As strange as he felt in such loose clothing, no one spared him a glance as he found his way to the aetheryte. No one questioned him when he sat on a bench nearby and waited for whoever Z’iyanna had reached out to. No one wondered why this random Elezen man was staring at all of them in a futile attempt to hide his awe of this new place.

Perhaps more surprising was the fact that he didn’t feel as anxious as he expected to. By all accounts, he should have been. Ishgard’s Lord Commander virtually alone in a place he’d never been to? A knight with sudden aether that was apparently so strange that even the Warrior of Light wasn’t sure to think of it? That alone surely should have caused some kind of stress. But Z’iyanna had assured him that everything would be fine and, for reasons Aymeric wasn’t completely sure of yet, he trusted her judgment without question. 

Most would call him foolish. Maybe he was. But Aymeric had always trusted his instincts. So, instead of spending his rare time away from Ishgard in a panic, Aymeric casually watched the people around him. While there were a fair amount of citizens around, Gridania was peaceful. Their voices were nothing but murmurs on the tranquil wind. The sun was bright. The sky was clear. The trees and grass and flowers were lush and more beautiful than any Aymeric had seen. It was the polar opposite of Ishgard, and Aymeric understood why people like Z’iyanna could call this place home. 

Why had Ishgard kept itself so closed off for so long? Aymeric knew of his people’s fears of outsiders. He’d always been different, in that regard. But a city in isolation was prone to stagnation; something he was certain Ishgard suffered from already.

A strange, whimsical noise caught his attention. Aymeric’s eyes widened as he glanced behind him. The sound was slight, but something he’d never heard before. If anyone else heard it, they weren’t bothered. Or, at the very least, they weren’t giving it any attention. But then that sound - what could he even call it? - got louder, and a white and pink ball popped up from beneath the bench. “It's him, kupo!” A female voice said. “Oh. Oh… oh no. I didn’t think I’d get this far.” The pom moved forward, and Aymeric could only stare as a small, white Moogle flew out in front of him, but faced the other way. 

Except Aymeric had never seen a real Moogle. He’d heard stories and seen artistic representations, but he never thought he’d actually meet one. She (he assumed given the voice) was a bit larger than he expected and was holding a small, wooden staff that had been crafted into a typical conjurer cane. A crown of pink and purple flowers rested on her head and didn’t move even as she tilted it to the side. “What should I do, kupo? Do I talk to him? I don’t think I could. But I really…”

Aymeric cleared his throat. The Moogle shrieked as she whipped around. A few people nearby glared at him but walked away with nothing more than quiet huffs. The Moogle stared at him. At least, Aymeric assumed she was staring at him, as the black lines on her furry head where eyes should have been were pointed in his direction. “You can… You can see me, kupo?” Every time her head moved, the floating ball above it would snap from side to side. And Aymeric was certain it was glowing with hints of silvers. 

“I…” Aymeric caught himself. “Yes, it would seem so. Is that… unusual?”

“Yes!” The Moogle’s entire body shook as she flailed her tiny paws in what he assumed was frustration. “I mean, most people here can see me if they try. But I haven’t shown myself to  _ you _ yet, kupo! That’s just not fair.”

Aymeric stared as the Moogle huffed and turned away from him again. “Though this might maybe make this a little bit, sort of… easier… oh… kupo.” 

Her head sagged forward, and the ball attached fell with it. And while Aymeric was well and truly baffled over the entire thing, he kept his composure and asked, “Are you the one Lady Z’iyanna asked to meet with me?”

The Moogle whirled around again. “So you have talked to her, kupo!” She seemed to hop back and forth in the air, waving her arms in pure excitement. “Can you take me to her?”

“I…”

“Pretty, pretty please?” She darted around his head, before flying right up to his face. “I want to be an adventurer! And who better to go adventuring with than the greatest adventurers of all adventurers, kupo?” 

Now Aymeric’s head was spinning. “I apologize, my… Lady. But I don’t even know your name.”

The Moogle froze, and he wondered if he’d managed to offend her. As well versed as he was in Ishgardian politics, Aymeric had, unfortunately, never been taught the customs of Moogles. But then, her free paw rose toward her cheek, and Aymeric swore he saw something akin to blush even on her fur. “Your… Lady?” She said. “I’m your Lady, kupo?”

“Puklia.”

The Moogle gulped as both she and Aymeric turned to the new voice. A Miqo'te woman with short white hair and matching tail smiled in amusement. She had a brown belt with a one-handed wand over a light blue, long-sleeved shirt, black wool pants, and white shoes. “Are you trying to scare our guest away?” The woman smiled as she waved a letter with the unmistakable seal of House Fortemps. 

“Nooooo,” The Moogle said in a tone that betrayed her. “I just wanted to ask him about Z’iyanna, kupo!” She turned back to him. “This is Y’mhitra, and I’m Puklia Pachu!” She waved her little cane and gave him a grand twirl. “And I’m a healer!”

Y’mhitra shook her head. “You can ask him later, Puklia.”

The Moogle’s head sagged again. “But you’ll both forget, kupo.” The pure sadness in her voice made Aymeric’s heart twist in his chest. “And then I won’t get to ask. And I won’t get to go. And…”

“I won’t forget,” He said before he had a chance to think about it. “Come find me later. This afternoon, perhaps?”

Puklia’s head shot up, but he wasn’t sure if it was in surprise or happiness. “I won’t let you down, kupo! I’ll be the best Moogle healer you’ve ever seen!” She danced around him, spinning in wide circles. Aymeric ducked under the glowing orb, and Y’mhitra rolled her eyes. “I’ll go pack my things!” The Moogle darted away, and Y’mhitra chuckled, undoubtedly at Aymeric’s confusion.

“I was unaware I agreed to anything.”

“Puklia has lived here her entire life,” Y’mhitra said. “But she’s one of the few Moogles I’ve met with such dreams of grandeur.” 

“That is something I think all of us could benefit from,” Aymeric said as he stood to greet her with a bow. “

Y’mhitra laughed. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow. “I was rather intrigued when I read Z’iyanna’s letter, but I had not expected this.” She raised an odd contraption to her eyes- a large, golden thing that could maybe qualify as binoculars- and Aymeric shifted self-consciously. Y’mhitra hummed in thought, her tail flicking in what Aymeric assumed was excitement. “Amazing,” She said as she let the contraption drop against her chest. “Will you humor me, Aymeric?” 

“With…?”

She pointed to the aetheryte. “I’m assuming you’ve never traveled by one, yes?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never been able to attune to one, much less travel.”

“It’s just a theory,” She said. “But I think you might be able to now.”

Aymeric eyed the aetheryte wearily. While there was an untold amount of them scattered throughout the world, only a few could actually use them for consistent travel. He’d even heard stories of those who had traveled a single time and nearly died because of it. But the more he stared at it, the more he realized how  _ different  _ it looked now. Before, he’d seen nothing but a normal, blue crystal. Now, he saw glittering lines swirling within, like an ebb and flow of energy. “How would I do it?” 

“Reach for the aetheryte.” She held her hand out to demonstrate. A slight, blue glow radiated from it, and the energy within swirled just a little faster. “If you feel a gentle pull on your hand, you’re doing it right.”

Both hesitant and curious, Aymeric reached out. At first, nothing happened. But when his hand pressed against the crystal, he felt it; a gentle tug somewhere within him. A warm and soothing light formed in his palm, and the aether inside flocked straight to him, only stopped by the barrier. Then, in a small burst of energy, everything went still. Aymeric pulled back, eyes wide as he stared at his hand. 

He’d felt the aether. The magic had flowed right through him. But how? 

“How do you feel?”

“Consumed by questions that I’m afraid may not have any answers.”

“It’s a start,” She said. “Let’s find a quieter place to talk, and I’ll see what I can do.”


	10. A Series of Unfortunate Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Z'iyanna raids a bird camp, and Aymeric learns more about his predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to apologize that this took so long to post. I was having some crazy things happening IRL, and most of my writing got put off for a little while I put everything back together.
> 
> That being said, I am working on building a backlog of this story so that this delay doesn't happen again. That means the next chapter will likely be out in two weeks instead of one, and I can more confidently say when the rest will be. (I have everything mapped out, its just a matter of getting to the writing). 
> 
> That being said, I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll see ya'll soon :)

_“Long thought to be little more than myth, the Lord of the Mists was summoned forth and given form by the fervent prayers of the Vanu Vanu… Bismarck’s primal incarnation, however, has been tainted by the cruel avarice of his Vundu summoners, the entity’s uncontrolled appetite leading him to devour the very islands he was intended to protect.”_

-Historical Report. “Bismarck”

* * *

Z’iyanna had fought many primals in her lifetime, so a flying, island sized whale wasn’t too much of a surprise. What she didn’t understand was why she found it so comical that a bird beast tribe, of all things, had a whale for a god. A big, island devouring whale, yes, but the sheer irony around it was deeply amusing.

Or maybe she’d simply been cooped up in the cold for too long. 

Of course, she hadn’t actually _seen_ the creature yet, only heard about it in great detail from everyone she’d breathed near since arriving in the Sea of Clouds. Between that and this new beast tribe called the “Vanu Vanu” (which, thankfully, Haurchefant had debriefed her on long before this mess), she already had her hands full. When Aymeric officially left on “Lord Commander” business, not a single knight had batted an eye when it was Cid of the Garlond Ironworks who picked him up. No one questioned either of them, as if this entire thing was perfectly normal and not suspicious in the slightest. Which was probably a good thing as this grand tour of the frankly beautiful Sea of Clouds turned into a rescue mission less than an hour after his departure.

And Z’iyanna was _excited_ about it. 

Clearly, her time in the gloomy city had begun to chip away at her sanity. 

Unfortunately, her mood had soured once she learned who she was actually on her way to rescue. Emmanellain de Fortemps; Haurchefant’s much younger and more cowardly half-brother. She’d only spoken to him once - a formality on her part, as she wanted to remain in Count Edmont’s good graces - but she hadn’t seen much from him. Emmanellain seemed like the type of person who cared more about local gossip than anything productive. And considering the constant presence of his pageboy, Honoroit, Z’iyanna assumed that Emmanellain was likely as unreliable as he was boastful of… nothing really. Haurchefant had spoken well of him, but Z’iyanna knew from constant prodding that it took a great amount of effort on his part to find good things to say. Compared to his second half-brother, Artoirel, Emmanellain didn’t have much going for him.

A part of her wanted to pity him. But she’d heard multiple stories of his cowardice already, and she was somewhat notorious for not respecting that type of person. It didn’t help that his fellow knights seemed less concerned for his well-being and more annoyed that he had ignored a direct order, again. Some were even taking bets on who he would blame for it. 

But Z’iyanna was not one to give up on others. Emmanellain would have much to do before he earned her respect, but she wasn’t about to abandon someone in need. 

And that’s how she found herself quite literally storming into the Vanu’s camp, knocking out any birds she did see, and scaring away the others that didn’t quite know what to make of her. 

Haurchefant wouldn’t approve, but Z’iyanna wasn’t about to waste any time pondering what he might say to her once he found out. If the rumors were true, then Emmanellain didn’t have much time before becoming primal food, along with whatever island the birds had exiled him to. She’d left Zephyr behind, unwilling to throw him into this mess quite yet, but longed for Twintania, whose existence would make navigation a breeze. 

But, alas, she hadn’t heard from her dragon friend yet. Which was probably a good thing, as that meant no one else had seen her either. 

_Focus, Z’iyanna, s_ he chided herself. The Vanu were clearly avoiding her now, even as she approached what she assumed was the leader. She wondered briefly if there were more Vanu out there. Peaceful ones that were more than happy to trade and work with the knights below. It wasn’t uncommon for beast tribes to split between the tempered and the rest. Maybe she could repair the damage this new tribe had done to the other tribe’s relationships. 

But now was not the time to dwell on it, for she finally saw Emmanellain in the distance, tied up with poor Honoroit on an island only a few feet away. The young-looking elezen was a statue, frozen in horror as he stared past her in some kind of existential crisis. His pageboy, however, met her gaze with relief and was calmly searching for a way to undo the ropes binding them together. 

Now that was someone Z’iyanna could respect. 

The Vanu chieftain was almost identical to the other members of his tribe. A large, dark blue feathered bird-like creature with talons on the tips of their fingers, a beak, and scale-like patterns on his legs. His tribal outfit was more lavish than the rest, with a full crown of multi-colored feathers, braided cords of what she assumed was rope across his chest, and four beaded belts hanging loosely around his waist. Z’iyanna couldn’t read his expression, but she could see how his muscles tensed the closer she got. 

“What do you want?” He said. 

“Them,” Z’iyanna said, gesturing to the captives behind him. “I will say, if you wanted a sacrifice, you could’ve chosen someone much better.” She heard Emmanellain’s protests, but Honoriot’s laughter quickly silenced the poor man. 

“The Lord of the Mists must be appeased,” The chieftain said. Z’iyanna thought she heard a hint of regret in his tone, but couldn’t be certain. “It is the only way to keep our islands intact.”

“Bismarck, you mean?” She said. 

The Vanu’s eyes narrowed. “You should not speak his name, outsider.”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” She said with a shrug. But her eyes never left his. Confidence was usually the best tool she had against anyone, really; beast tribes or otherwise. “Tell me more about him.”

The Vanu’s laugh was shrill and quick, followed by “That is a story your kind could never understand.”

“Try me.”

A loud sound from below cut their conversation short; an eerie noise that echoed through the air itself. “The Lord of the Mist comes,” The chieftain said. “May our sacrifice be worthy of his divine form.”

Z’iyanna sprinted past him, leaping to the second island without hesitation. She landed, sword in hand, and cut through the bindings with a few precise swings. Emmanellain fell onto his side, whimpering something probably not important, while Honoriot turned his attention to her. “We won’t make that jump,” he said. “It’s too high.” He glanced down at his Lord. “He won’t… at the very least.”

What Z’iyanna wouldn’t give for the extra strength to throw the elezen herself. Except the Vanu likely wouldn’t take that well, and she wasn’t certain she could reach him in time either. “We’ll find a way,” She said.

The voice of Bismarck reverberated from below, shaking the islands. Z’iyanna froze, eyes scanning the horizon. The Vanu rushed back down the hillside, a few of them screaming in a language she didn’t understand. Emmanellain wept with terror, holding onto Honoroit as if his life depended on it. The pageboy’s eyes were wide with fear, even though his expression was a picture of calm. Z’iyanna whistled as she pulled them closer to the edge. 

“You’re going to make me jump?!” Emmanellain cried as he tried to pull away. “I’d rather be eaten by the whale.”

 _Shut up._ She thought but bit her tongue. The last thing she needed was to start arguing with him when Bismarck was closing in. She just wished she could see…

Another sound knocked them all off their feet. A massive, white-feathered whale burst from beneath the clouds less than a mile away. It’s gaping mouth opened wide as it rushed toward an island. It shattered on impact, with the whale devouring most of it before flipping over and diving back into the clouds. Z’iyanna might have called it majestic, had it not arched toward them in the descent. 

She whistled as loudly as she could again, praying that Zephyr could hear her. Her eyes landed on a much larger island below as her mind raced for a plan. The fall was much too far for either of the elezen to survive, but she could do it. But short of blinking Twintania into existence - something impossible even for herself - she didn’t know what else to do. 

What would Haurcefant and the others say if she jumped to save herself? Would they be upset that she’d given up? Relieved that the Warrior of Light had survived? She was more than used to scrutiny and accusations, baseless or otherwise. But she couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting the few people that had remained with her for so long. 

Kweh!

Z’iyanna’s eyes jerked to the sky, relieved as Zephyr flew toward them as fast as his little wings would take him. He must have been nearby, and she was suddenly grateful that he was as stubborn of a Chocobo as she was a hero. The low cry of Bismarck echoed below them again just as he landed. “Both of you on.” She said, shoving Emmanellain toward the Chocobo. He scrambled to get on and was only successful once Honoroit practically shoved him upright. “Get them out of here,” Z’iyanna said. Zephyr kwed in alarm, but she brushed the feathers of his crown. “Please,” She whispered. “Take them back to Camp Cloudtop. I will wait for the others.”

The island began to shake. “Go!” She said. Zephyr leaped into the sky as Z’iyanna dove off the opposite direction. Bismarck erupted feet away from her, consuming the island and all that was on it in a rush. And as awe-struck as she was by the whale’s unprecedented size and aether, she had much better things to worry about. Such as not dying in a mile-long fall.

She tugged on her Paladin crystal, shield appearing in her hand. She channeled as much aether as she could, throwing a barrier around herself just seconds before she slammed into the ground. It knocked the air out of her lungs, but there was no true pain. Just the mental image of her body shattering if she hadn’t succeeded. But that slipped away as Bismarck twirled above her. The few golden accents along his head and horn glittered in the sunlight, and Z’iyanna swore his large, gold eye locked on her before he disappeared back into the clouds below. The world stilled. The whale’s voice went quiet, and Z’iyanna let herself drop to her knees in relief. 

_The Lord of the Mists,_ She recalled. _A story your kind could never understand._

But she could. And she wanted to. For if she didn’t… she might not know how to defeat it. 

“It’s fitting, isn’t it?” 

Z’iyanna’s head jerked to the side as she snapped back up to her feet. Before her was a man, covered with black and gold armor that Z’iyanna didn’t recognize. Only his eyes were visible; silver behind a mask of gold. A hyur, if she had to guess. But the way he was staring at her was… unsettling. 

“What are you doing here?” The island was larger than the others, yes, but surely she would have seen _someone_ on it. There were no trees in the way. No flora beside the few small bushes. It was mostly just gray rocks and small pools of water. 

“On your own again,” The man said, ignoring her. “It would be a shame if they left you here.”

Z’iyanna’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve wondered about it before, right?” The man’s eyes lifted to the sky. “Everything you do… everything you sacrifice… the risks you take to save the others… When will it be too much?” His gaze met hers again. “When will you be left to die while the others move on, with only a few mourning the loss?”

Rage pulsed through her, but Z’iyanna pushed it down and took a deep breath, closing her eyes before she spoke again. “You know nothing about…” Her voice trailed off when her eyes opened. The man was gone, with no sign that he’d been there at all.

* * *

Aymeric had experienced his fair share of scrutiny. Between the Heaven’s Ward, the Archbishop, and the entirety of Ishgard, he was always being watched by somebody. And yet, none of that compared to the way Y’mithra had been staring at him with a strange gleam in her eyes for the last hour or so. Honestly, he’d lost complete track of time. But she assured him many times - without him asking - that he would not miss the trip back to Ishgard. 

So, he waited in silence, both uncomfortable with the attention and eager to find out what exactly she found so fascinating. 

He hoped it was something useful. 

Finally, after a long series of notes and a few one-sided conversations by link-pearl, Y’mithra clapped her hands together with a grin. “While there’s still a lot of things I need to research, I know one thing for certain; you need a way to expend that extra aether before it harms your own.”

Aymeric tried not to show his alarm, but the tightening of his jaw probably looked worse than just letting it fall. “Harms… my own?”

“Don’t worry,” She said. “There’s a very easy solution for that.” She reached into her pouch and procured an oddly shaped green stone. In the center was a triangle with a half-circle base, like some kind of hat. It was something he thought he should recognize, but not one he’d seen in Ishgard. “This is a summoner soul crystal,” Y’mithra said. “It will take time to learn how to wield its power properly, but I have little doubt that you will.” She grinned at him, urging him to take it. And when he did, a soothing warmth radiated from his palm, spreading out through the rest of his body. Memories he didn’t recognize flashed through his mind, but they were so quick and disorganized that he couldn’t pick any apart. 

One memory, however, lingered with something akin to fondness. There was a white creature there, much smaller than Aymeric, bouncing with what he assumed was boundless energy. It reminded him of a small cat of some kind, though that description felt wrong. Its ears were long. Its three-pronged tail flicked toward the sky. Black, pupil-less eyes stared back, but Aymeric could feel its growing curiosity. 

“What do you see?” 

“I don’t know,” Aymeric said, searching for the words. But when he blinked, the memory was gone. “It was a creature of some kind… maybe a cat?”

Y’mithra’s smile widened. “I’d say you just saw your first Carbuncle. With any luck, you’ll be able to summon the little guy too.”

“Summon?” Aymeric said.

“We call them egis,” Y’mithra said. “An avatar of sorts, formed and limited by the summoner’s aether. There is some debate on whether these egis have true thoughts and feelings. Although, given the number of times I’ve seen carbuncles run away from their summoners, it wouldn’t surprise me.” She crossed her arms with a glazed over, thoughtful look in her eyes. “We’re still putting a lot of the pieces together, as we’ve only recently unearthed the knowledge after the fall of Dalamud, so there is much to learn.”

“Is it the same as summoning a primal?”

Y’mithra shook her head. “Theoretically, one could summon a primal with enough crystals, willpower, and aetheric energy. But you run the risk of siphoning too much and losing your soul into the lifestream. There are primal-egis, but I believe that would put too much strain on your soul since you haven’t felt their aether before. Forming them would be near impossible”

Aymeric looked away, unwilling to admit the prickle of fear at the thought. “That wind blast Z’iyanna used,” He said as he forced himself to meet her gaze again. “Garuda, yes?”

“Z’iyanna’s aether is very complicated,” Y’mithra said. “Unfortunately, the stories she has shared with me are not public knowledge, nor will I ever risk her confidence to tell them.” She looked toward the sky. “But I will say this. Her ability to absorb the aether of primals and other strong aetheric bodies is something I’ve only heard of in legends; legends once lost to the annals of the Allagan Empire.”

Aymeric didn’t know how to respond. He knew Z’iyanna was strong. She was the Warrior of Light, after all. Someone capable of single-handedly defeating primals had to be a strong fighter. And he had seen that himself in the highlands. But something still nagged at him. Memories shared between them that he didn’t understand. At least, he assumed they’d been shared… they certainly weren’t his.

“I saw a dragon,” He said quietly. There wasn’t anyone around that he could see, but he didn’t dare risk Z’iyanna’s secrecy over a hunch. “And I’d dare say it looked very familiar to a certain…” He paused. “Strong entity.”

For a long moment, Y’mithra said nothing. She was staring again. This time, however, it wasn’t out of interest. Her gaze seemed almost… predatory. As if she were deciding if he was worthy of that information, or if she should dismiss him outright. But the fact that she was considering it at all proved that he was on to something… even if he wasn’t certain what. 

“I’m afraid,” She said slowly. “That is one of those stories I cannot, in good faith, tell without her express permission.” 

That answer was both deeply disappointing and comforting. He _had_ seen it, then. Bahamut; the cause of the Calamity. Haurchefant had brushed on the topic, but he, like Y’mithra, hadn’t given anything away. Aymeric had to speak to Z’iyanna… he just didn’t know where to start. 

“Don’t worry,” Y’mithra said. Her lighthearted tone was back as if nothing had happened. “You’ll need time to summon properly, but I’ll give you whatever help I can.”

Aymeric nodded. “I’ve been told I’m an exemplary student.”

She laughed. “Good. You’re going to need it.”


	11. Divine Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow its been... a few weeks hasn't it? I do apologize for the temporary hiatus. I had a lot of things going on IRL that made working on this very long and more detailed project a bit more difficult. But fear not! I have consulted my outline and have started consistently writing on all projects again. I expect this one to receive longer updates once every other week for the time being. 
> 
> For now, I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter :)

_Carbuncles are small fox-like creatures that can help fulfill various roles depending on which version is summoned. Emerald Carbuncle casts spells, while Topaz Carbuncle can tank. However, there are rumors of much stronger Carbuncles that can be summoned based on the power of the summoner. Only a few of these variations are known…”_

_-Y’mithra’s Research Journal, “Of Summons and Carbuncles”_

* * *

After nearly an hour of little progress, Aymeric accepted that, in this lifetime at least, he may never actually summon a carbuncle. Y’mithra had tried to be encouraging. “It takes time,” She said. “And you’re showing great promise. Just practice whenever you get the chance.” And while he appreciated the sentiment, Aymeric wasn’t sure where she got that notion from, as nothing had happened since he attuned to the aetheryte. He hadn’t even seen the shimmer of a Carbuncle, something that Y’mithra had called a promising sign. And while she had also claimed to see it herself, Aymeric didn’t believe it. 

It was difficult for Aymeric to not think of his failures as a potential burden. They still didn’t know what effect Aymeric’s sudden “absorption” of Z’iyanna’s power had on her. And if he couldn’t use this newfound magic, then what was the point? Why was he given this power if he wasn’t capable of using it? 

On the bright(?) side, he could still see Moogles, which was good for his new companion. 

Puklia Pachu, or Puklia as she preferred to be called, had been waiting on the airship before Aymeric himself got there. And once she’d announced that “Sir Aymeric said I could come, kupo!” he knew any attempts to dissuade her would be for naught. Now, she was on top of the world, thrilled to be going on an adventure, excited to meet her hero, and mesmerized by the airship itself. Aymeric could feel her enthusiasm as if he were the one about to meet his idol for the first time. And that, at the very least, was a feeling he could relate to. 

“Is she as amazing as the stories say, kupo?” Puklia said. 

“I don’t know which stories you speak of,” Aymeric replied.

“I’ve heard them all, kupo!” Puklia said proudly. “Did you know she even defeated our king? He was big and scary and she fought him and the Moogle guard all by herself! And I heard it was more graceful than our dancers, kupo!”

“Moogle have dancers?” Aymeric said, trying to imagine what such a thing would look like. 

“Is she that amazing?”

“I think so.”

“Is she as beautiful as they say too?”

Aymeric choked, and he swore he heard Cid chuckle somewhere behind him. “Well traditionally speaking…”

Puklia’s arms flayed in irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Many would likely refer to her in that way.”

Puklia paused as her paw touched her chin. “But do you, kupo?”

Aymeric’s face felt warmer than a 1000 suns. “I… Yes I… suppose I would,” He was suddenly grateful that Haurchefant had gone elsewhere, as he couldn’t imagine answering such a question in front of a man clearly pining for Z’iyanna’s affections. Of course, Haurchefant would likely be answering these questions himself. In fact, Aymeric was certain the Moogle would be far more entertained with Haurchefant than Aymeric himself. 

“Aymeric,” Cid said as they drifted toward one of the islands. “It seems Haurchefant has beat us here.”

“What?” Aymeric practically flew from his seat as he reached for the railing. On the ground was a Haurchefant, but he was more furious than Aymeric had ever seen him before. His voice practically pierced the heavens, even though Aymeric couldn't quite tell what was being said. The boy in front of him - Emmanellain, Aymeric recalled - was cowering as if Halone himself was standing before him. The page boy next to him was quiet and clearly avoiding Haurchefant’s wrath. 

“Oh no, kupo!” Puklia said as she waved her hands around in a panic. “Z’iyanna’s missing!”

Aymeric’s heart plummeted as Cid brought them in for a landing. “What else has he said, Puklia?”

“She went to save that boy, kupo,” Puklia said. “But the boy came back without her!”

Aymeric didn’t want to believe her, but the pain on Haurchefant’s face when they landed. “Z’iyanna’s missing,” He said, eyes flickering to Puklia for a brief moment before meeting Aymeric’s gaze again. “And the temperature is dropping by the minute.”

“Hypothermia?” Aymeric said. 

“That is my greatest worry, at the moment,” Haurchefant said. “Even if she had access to Ifrit, I fear she would not last the night.”

“My crew and I can scout the area,” Cid said. 

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” The page boy said. “The storms up here are very dangerous for airships.”

“But surely if we know which way to go…”

“My brother cannot recall where they were,” Haurchefant said through gritted teeth. “But we know she rescued him from the Vanu, so she has to be near there.”

“She dropped to a much lower island,” the page boy said. “I couldn’t see which one, but I can try and lead you there.”

Zephyr kwed beside them as he pressed his forehead to Haurchefant’s cheek. “You know where she is?” He said. The bird chirped a second time, more urgently than the first. “I’m so sorry,” Haurchefant murmured. “I should have asked you sooner.” He grabbed a set of blankets from a knight, and filled a backpack with small bits of food. Then, he leapt onto the Chocobo’s back. “Please take the Lord Commander home and return to us in the morning. I swear on my life that I will bring Z’iyanna back.” 

“I can’t abandon…” Aymeric began.

“I will find her,” Haurchefant said. “But we cannot risk the archbishop blaming you for her disappearance, or declaring you missing as well.” And before Aymeric could respond, Haurchefant took off into the skies, Zephyr leading the way. And for the second time that day, Aymeric was left painfully aware of his own weaknesses. 

“Mr. Aymeric?” 

He glanced at Puklia as she slowly hovered up towards his face. “Is Lady Z’iyanna going to be okay?”

Slowly, Aymeric nodded. “Lord Haurchefant will bring her back. Of that I am certain.”

* * *

_It is cold._

_Oh so very cold_

_Why did these treacherous mortals try to fight the likes of me? Why did they work so hard, and struggle for so long, to contain me in that failiable prison? They should have known that I am unstoppable. I am inevitable. My rage will consume them all. My fire will scorch the earth. My fury will annihilate all life and hope in its wake._

_But she gives me pause. The goddess among mortals. The fight who has destroyed the lives for hundreds of soldiers, beasts, dragons and primals in her wake. SHe stands before me. Unafraid, Unflinching. And she tells me the words I never wanted- n, never thought I would hear._

_“You’re not alone.”_

_The Warrior of Light they call her, come to save a murderous, ruthless monster like me._

_But this doesn’t change anything. My rage only simmers, buried deep within her consciousness. Our power is intertwined- two unstoppable aethers feed off of each other. Growing. Shifting. Changing until neither are recognizable… or until only one is left._

_So I wait. I bide my time and watch until one or the other claims this body. My rage may consume her. There are already signs that it is beginning to. Her righteousness may undo me, but I feel nothing._

_She has no idea of the turmoil within her… but she will soon._

_That elezen… is more interesting than I thought. I wonder if he realizes the potential he now holds within him. But it is of no consequence to me. If he does not grab what is now rightfully his, then he is of no use to me._

_Humans are all the same._

_Except for her._

_She is the only one to have proven herself to me._

_We’ll see how long that lasts._

_For her death, will be my beginning._

* * *

It was cold. 

Oh so very cold. 

Z’iyanna knew she was dying. Her robes could only retain so much heat. Her healing magic couldn’t stop the impending hypothermia. Her shield couldn’t block the frigid winds. And as the sun lay low on the horizon, she was left to wonder if which version of her the search party would find; a proud Warrior of Light or a forgotten corpse adrift in this sea of death. 

At least the whale hadn’t come back. Though she had yet to decide if freezing to death was better than being eaten alive. 

No, she chastised herself. I will not think that way. She had survived far worse than something like this. And while Haurchefant might not have made it back in time, Aymeric surely would have. Which meant Cid and the others had to be close. Zephyr had found her before. He could certainly find her now. But she was painfully aware of the fact that the islands had shifted over the last few hours. Some had risen. Others had lowered. The island where she’d met the Vanu was so far away she had to squint to see it with any amount of clarity. And with the wind picking up.

“You’re right you know,” the voice from before whispered in her ear. “It’s all hopeless.” 

A small piece of Z’iyanna wanted to lash out in a blind rage. This person. This thing that could only exist in her head had no reason to berate her. But the majority of her didn’t, as it was too consumed by shivering behind a rock that offered very little comfort. 

“Pathetic.”

Z’iyanna snorted. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“But you’ve never believed it.”

“And I don’t now.” 

“So you’re a liar too?”

“And you’re not even real.”

The voice sighed. “I am as real as you are, child. And you’re the reason we’re stuck in this bloody mess to begin with.”

“Heaven forbid I try to be a hero.” 

“You’re no hero, Z’iyanna.”

Her head snapped up in protest, but she was alone. Great. She thought. Either the hypothermia was kicking in quicker than she thought, or she had finally lost her mind. Either way, she’ll be making her enemies’ day. 

Haurchefant…

Z’iyanna was not blind, nor was she ignorant of her own feelings. The two had been close companions for over a year now- far closer than she had been to any of the Scions. Haurchefant knew almost everything about her. He’d never judged her or expected anything more than who she was. Not as the Warrior of Light, but as Z’iyanna. His comrade. His friend. Maybe his something more. She wasn’t certain exactly where they were in that regard… but it wouldn't matter much if she died here. 

Then there was Aymeric. What would happen to him if she were to disappear? Would his people blame him for her death? What about the new, unknown aether within him? She had hoped to read the inevitable letter from Y’mithra with all of her theories and findings to ponder over while Z’iyanna tried to figure it out herself. And she wanted to know what was happening to him. She was also terrified that her death could kill him just as quickly.

Then there was Bahamut, Midgar and Twintania. Tataru, Alphinaud, and the other missing Scions… So many lives depending on her survival. So many people expected her to pull through any adversity, death included. 

“Because they are worthless without you,” The voice said again. “And I say good riddance. Maybe you’ll finally get some peace when everyone else isn’t piling the world on your shoulders.”

“Lady Z’iyanna!”

Of all the times she had heard Haurchefant’s voice… it had never brought her such visceral relief. And Zephyr’s panicked “kweh!” almost brought her to tears. “I’m here,” She whispered, her dry throat unable to produce anything louder. But Haurchefant landed by her side anyway, sliding off of Zephyr’s back the second he could. A moment later - when had he ever moved this fast? - a blanket was wrapped around her as Haurchefant pulled her close to his chest. 

“Zephyr,” He said. “Behind her.” The chocobo moved without a sound as he plopped down behind her, pressing his body as close to her back as possible. And Z’iyanna, weary from the day and exhausted by the lingering voice, succumbed to the newfound warmth. 

* * *

Alphinaud was exhausted by the time he returned to Ishgard, and he quickly decided that a nice long nap was in order. 

Unfortunately, he stepped into a manor full of solemn faces and a Count whose first words were “I’m afraid we’ve encountered a problem.”

Alphinaud did his best not to crumble at the thought. “What kind of problem, Count Edmont?”

“Lady Tataru has been arrested for heresy.”

The quote “no rest for the weary” had never felt so real.


	12. A Reward Long in Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I'm sorry these are taking a bit longer to go out then I would like. I am still working on this story! It's just going a bit slower than I expected. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this update!

_Having been informed of all you accomplished during your time in Falcon's Nest and Camp Cloudtop, Count Edmont wishes to express his heartfelt gratitude. He has scarcely begun to speak, however, when his steward bursts in: Tataru has been arrested by a knight of the Heavens' Ward─one “Ser Grinnaux”─on the charge of fomenting heresy._

_Journal - Divine Intervention_

* * *

At first, Alphinaud didn’t know what to say, even though a million questions bombarded him all at once. How did this happen? Why Tataru? Why not himself or Z’iyanna? Did they think these charges wouldn’t stick on anyone else? But despite all of this, all he could say was, “why?”

“As far as we know,” Count Edmont said. “She was merely asking questions at the Forgotten Knight, but one of the Heaven’s Ward overheard her at the wrong time and accused her of trying to spread heresy. We tried asking with she said, but they wouldn’t give us a straight answer.”

“So what does that mean?”

“She will stand trial, either a simple one that she will likely lose or a trial by combat that she will also lose without a champion.”

“Who does the champion have to fight?”

“One of the accusers,” Edmont said. 

Alphinaud didn’t want to hear the answer, even though he already knew it was coming. “A member of the Heaven’s Ward?”

“Yes,” Count Edmont said. “Which means we need to find Z’iyanna quickly.”

“I’ll do it,” Alphinaud said. “I can fight.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been offended by the surprise on the Count’s face, but it did bother him just a bit. “Are you sure? The Heaven’s Ward is not to be trifled with.”

“We cannot always rely on Z’iyanna to fix our problems.” Alphinaud snapped. 

“This is nothing against you,” Count Edmont said. “But Z’iyanna can finish the trial quickly so we can all move on.”

“Well she’s not here,” Alphinaud said. “And we don’t have a lot of time.” 

Slowly, Edmont nodded. “I will delay the trial as much as possible. Prepare yourself, Alphinaud. I’ll find out who your competition will be.” Despite his words, Alphinaud had a feeling that Count Edmont was still hoping for more. 

* * *

_Plumes of fire filled her vision as smoke swept through the area. Yet, nothing bothered her as it should. She did not cough. She did not struggle to breathe. She simply stood there, watching as the red moon cracked open. She knew what was inside; the dragon both killed and reborn. And she knew the future they would have together; the world she would try to show him._

_“It won’t be long,” his voice whispered in the back of her mind. “You will give in.”_

_Wings burst from the red moon as pieces of it rained from the sky._

_“No,” She thought. “I still have things to show you.”_

_He snorted. “Believe what you will, Warrior of Light. But I know the truth.”_

_As he burst from his prison, a golden light surrounded her. She watched as he swept through the armies, decimating everything in his path._

_“And I will destroy you… and everything you love.”_

Z’iyanna jerked awake, but the pile of thick blankets kept her still. Her eyes darted around the room, confused as her brain struggled to comprehend where she was. _Haurchefant’s home,_ she finally told herself, taking a slow, deep breath to bring her thoughts back together. 

She’d had that dream before. Numerous times since she and Bahamut’s souls had fused. His words were always the same. _I will destroy you._ For the most part, she brushed it off as his dominant soul wishing to be free. But sometimes - in those rare occasions when she lost her confidence or forgot who she was - his words would embed themselves into her mind, stewing there for days before she could let them go. This time, she closed her eyes and shoved them back. She had too much to do and nowhere near enough time to dwell on the thoughts of a being that rarely showed himself. 

A knock at the door yanked her attention away. “Come in,” She said. Relief flooded her when Haurchefant stepped in, closing the door quietly behind him. Then she noticed his expression and knew immediately that something was wrong. “What happened?” She said, sitting up as she held the blankets close to her chest. 

The more Haurchefant spoke, the angrier Z’iyanna became. This was clearly some kind of attack on her. Tataru merely got caught in the crossfire. Why else would they arrest her? Though with what little she knew about the Heaven’s Ward, Z’iyanna wouldn’t put it past them to find any reason they could to arrest _anyone,_ not just her companions. “And Alphinaud wants to fight for her?” She said. 

“That is his plan, yes,” Haurchefant said. 

Z’iyanna swore under her breath. If Haurchefant heard, he ignored it. “How long do we have?”

“My father is delaying the trial as much as possible.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“A few days, at most,” Haurchefant hesitated. “Though I fear they may force it sooner if they think you're injured.”

“Then we can’t let them think that,” She rose from the bed, letting the blanket fall from her lean frame. The tips of Haurchefant’s ears turned a bright red, but the rest of him simply helped her into her robe before she had a chance to stop him. “I’ll be fine,” She said as she met his gaze. “I’ve fought worse than the Heaven’s Ward.” He started to speak, but she pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. “And in a much worse state.”

“As much as you would like to believe it, Lady Z’iyanna,” Haurchefant said. “You are not invincible.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Are you certain?”

She sighed, but she kept the frustration out of it. She was only alive because he risked his life to come find her, among other reasons. It was fair for him to assume the worst. But she never had time to do such a thing. She was the Warrior of the Light. The Primal-Slayer and Dragon Killer. She was supposed to be a picture of perfect calm and limitless power at every given opportunity. She didn’t have time to rest, not when one of the few friends she had left was about to lose her life. 

“I’ll be fine,” She said quietly as she took his hand. “I need you to trust me.”

“I always do,” Haurchefant said without hesitation. “It’s the other people I don’t trust.”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “I won’t let you down.”

He softened under her touch, leaning just slightly into her hand. “I know.”

A sound drew her attention. _A Moogle?_ “Umm….” A voice said from outside the door. “Can I… come in maybe, kupo?”

She looked to Haurchefant, who just shrugged and opened the door. “I present to you, Lady Puklia Pachu.”

The Moogle waved her arms in a panic. “I’ve only been called a lady once before, kupo!” Then, her gaze landed on Z’iyanna and she froze. “Um… Hi, kupo?”

“Hello,” Z’iyanna said as she tilted her head. 

“It seems that the Lord Commander brought back a companion," Haurchefant said.

“He was really nice, kupo!” Puklia said. “And I told him that I wanted to adventure with the greatest adventurers of all adventurers!” She waved her cane around as her pom bobbed back and forth. “So I came to you, kupo. Oh please, please _please,”_ She waved her arms around again. “Let me join you.”

Z’iyanna stared at her. A Moogle that wanted to go adventuring? She supposed it wasn’t the craziest thing for a Moogle to ask for, but she hadn’t heard of many wandering outside of Gridania. Unless they were Postmoogles, but that was a whole different story. “Well I’m not going anywhere yet,” She said slowly.

“I’m a really good healer, kupo.” She said, presenting her little wooden cane as a prized possession. “And I won’t get in the way. Promise, kupo!”

Z’iyanna looked to Haurchefant who just gave her one of _those_ smiles and shrugged again. “If you can stay out of sight for now,” Z’iyanna said. “Then the next time I go adventuring, I’ll bring you along, deal?” 

The Moogle nearly fell out of the sky with elation. “I won’t let you down, kupo!” 

* * *

It always baffled Aymeric just how little power he had in situations like this. As the Lord Commander, he thought he could at least vouch for Tataru, but his voice didn’t matter when faced with the Heaven’s Ward. And after three days of delays- in no small part thanks to Count Edmont- only the Archbishop himself could stop this trial. And Aymeric had a sneaking suspicion that his father was keenly aware of what was taking place below his golden throne. What Aymeric didn’t know was what Thordan wanted out of this. He’d had Tataru arrested while everyone else was gone, and hadn’t sent any messages to Camp Cloudtop or anywhere else outside of Ishgard. But if imprisoning or, Fury forbid, killing Tataru wasn’t the goal… then what was?

“The accused, Tataru Taru, stands trial for the act of heresy,” The judge said. “And the accused has chosen to face her accuser, Ser Grinnaux, in a trial by combat.” He leaned forward on the bench, peering down at the terrified Lalafell before him. “I assume you have someone fighting in your stead, yes young lady?”

Tataru looked up at Alphinaud and back to the judge. But before she could speak, the door snapped open. Z’iyanna took a step inside, glaring first at the judge, then at Sir Grinnaux who merely scowled as he crossed his arms. Haurchefant came in behind her, bowing once to the judge before joining Aymeric, his face pale. “I’ll be her champion,” Z’iyanna said. 

Murmurs swept through the crowd as Z’iyanna walked up to the arena. Aymeric swore he saw Alphinaud’s expression fall, but he stepped out of her way without a hint of an argument. She looked like a picture of calm. Pristine white mage robes. Thyrus strapped to her back. Her hair was perfectly braided and her tail and ears almost seemed to shimmer. It was a far cry from the woman who had nearly died in the Sea of Clouds. 

Aymeric hoped she felt as confident as she looked. 

“She needs more rest,” Haurchefant muttered. “But Lady Tataru needed her help.”

“Will she be alright?” Aymeric said.

“She has to be,” Haurchefant said. 

“The great Warrior of Light,” Ser Grinnaux said, raising his ax onto his shoulder. “Come to save your little friend?”

Z’iyanna scoffed as she hopped into the ring. “You’re nothing more than a bully, _Sir Grinnaux._ And I will have no problems proving it.” She grabbed Thyrus and gave him a dramatic bow before brandishing it the same way she would against any other monster. Sir Grinnaux’s eyes narrowed, but Aymeric noticed how his shoulders tightened and he stood just a bit straighter. Aymeric tried to hide his nerves. If Z’iyanna could be that composed, then surely he could handle himself from the crowd. But he could see the worry in Haurchefant’s eyes and the way he was standing straighter than usual. If her closest confidant was worried…

“Fine,” Sir Grinnaux said as he pulled his ax from his back. “But I won’t hold back.”

Aymeric finally let our a breath when Z’iyanna smirked. “Neither will I.”

He moved first, barrelling at her with astounding speed. But she simply hopped to the side and snapped her cane forward, knocking him back with a wave of rocks. She did it a second time, nearly knocking him off his feet. The third cast was a blast of wind. He skidded backward, and Aymeric could see small cuts in the few weak points of the knight’s armor. When he moved for another strike, she raised the staff. A blinding flash caused screams in the crowd, and when the light was gone, Grinnaux was on the ground with a broadsword pointed directly at his neck. Her robe was gone, replaced by paladin’s armor that looked even more pristine than the knight’s own did. “I haven't been told if this was a fight to the death,” She said, her expression bored. “What’s the ruling on that one?”

Grinnaux grunted, glaring at her. “I drop my accusations.” 

She didn’t pull the sword away. “And you and the rest of your knights will refrain from making any more _unfounded_ accusations against myself or my companions for as long as we remain in Ishgard.” She tilted her head, pressing her armored foot against his leg. He winced for a fraction of a second before his steadfast glare returned. “Do I make myself clear?”

After a long moment, Grinnaux bit out, “I will inform the others.”

“Good,” Z’iyanna said cheerfully as she pulled away and tossed the sword. The crowd gasped as it transformed into Thyrus and her clothes returned to normal. She bowed to the judge - a bit more courteous this time- and turned to Alphinaud and Tataru. “Let’s go.”

“Z’iyanna.”

She froze as Sir Chariburt and two other knights walked into the hall. “I apologize for the… misunderstanding,” he said with a pointed glare in Sir Grinnaux’s direction. “The Archbishop wishes to speak to you to discuss this matter in… private.” 

Aymeric’s heart dropped into his stomach, but Z’iyanna looked elated. “Then take me to him,” She said as she waved off the other two. She glanced up at Haurchefant, who simply nodded as she was led out. 

“Well,” Haurchefant said stiffly. “She got her audience.”

“Hopefully she comes back out,” Aymeric muttered. 

That time, Haurchefant smiled as he lowered his voice. “I’m sure his holiness will give her a warm welcome.” He bowed. “By your leave, Lord Commander.”

“I need to speak with her,” Aymeric said. 

“I’ll let her know.” Haurchefant left himm, escorting out a relieved Tataru and a slightly agitated Alphinaud. Aymeric shook his head, waiting for the crowd to disperse before following after Z'iyanna.


	13. Onward and Upward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Z'iyanna meets with the Archbishop and the team makes a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and welcome back! I'm super excited to be getting to these chapters and hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Also, thank you to the reader who sent me the anon ko-fi. I didn't want to reply because I know it was sent anonymously, but it really made my day. So thank you <3
> 
> Edit: Fixed a few mistakes. I should probably reread previous chapters if I'm going to wait a month between them lol

_It would seem that His Eminence Archbishop Thordan VII has requested her presence…_

_-Disclosure_

* * *

While the walk to the Archbishop’s chambers was long and quiet, Z’iyanna was grateful that Aymeric had demanded he come with her. She wasn’t nervous, per se, but she was uncertain what exactly she was getting herself in to. Why would the Archbishop want to speak to her now? Haurchefant had made it pretty clear that it would take a miracle to actually meet the man. Yet here she was, following behind a silent knight with Aymeric by her side. 

Could he see how anxious… nay _excited_ she was? He hadn’t looked at her direction more than once as far as she could tell. Maybe he was nervous as well. It was impossible to say with such a cool demeanor. But surely if he could sense her feelings, he would think her mad. But she had to be the first outsider in _years_ to receive an audience with _any_ Archbishop. Now here she was, fresh off of embarrassing one of his highest ranked knights, walking right to his front door. 

It was a shame she couldn’t have talked more to Aymeric about the man beforehand. But when they did finally enter the vast, metal doors into the vault’s deepest chambers, Z’iyanna had to hold back a laugh. The old man looked about how she expected him too, long white beard and all. _If he were a bit taller, he could pass himself off as Ramuh._

She subtly shook her head to pull herself back to the conversation at hand. Imagining the archbishop as a primal was hardly a good way to spend her time. 

“Your Eminence,” Aymeric said somewhat stiffly. “It is my honor to present to you the Warrior of Light.” 

The Archbishop didn’t smile, nor did she expect him too. “I have heard the tales of your many grand endeavors, but I have brought you here for another reason.” He glanced at the blonde-haired Heaven’s Ward knight standing close by. _Zephirin_ she recalled. How she wished she could laugh at the ashamed hatred on his face as the Archbishop continued. “I am Thordan theVII, Archbishop of the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, and I bade you come here that I might offer my personal apologies.” 

_Ah._ She thought. Now Zephirin’s expression made much more sense. “Your companion was wrongly accused of heresy and subjected to gross indignities. This, I am sorry to say, was the result of negligence on the part of our nation’s protectors. Is that not so, Ser Zephirin.”

Zephirin looked physically pained when he spoke as if he had been the one to face her fury in the ring and not one of his comrades. “Yes, Your eminence…. It would appear that we of the Heavens’ Ward were in receipt of erroneous information.” When he looked up at her, she couldn’t help but give her best smile. His eyes narrowed, but he saluted her all the same. “Ser Grinnaux has ever been headstrong. He pressed charges before the truth had been ascertained, for which I most… sincerely… apologize.” 

“Then this won’t happen again, I presume?” She said, eyes still on Zephirin.

He clenched his jaw. “No. It will not.”

“Besides,” the Archbishop said. “Who could doubt the character of those who bested Shiva and drove the Horde from the Steps of Faith? Not I, that much is certain.”

Z’iyanna resisted the urge to frown. It sounded as if he had practiced this same speech a dozen times before meeting with her. Had this all been some kind of elaborate set up in the first place? Why risk Tataru’s life if that were the case? Had they been trying to make some kind of point? “I appreciate the kind words,” She said, letting her head fall just slightly. She wasn’t intimidated by the man in front of her, but even she knew when it was time to show respect. It was no different than her meetings with Kan-E-Senna or Merlywb, though both had become close friends over the years. 

The archbishop nodded, then looked to Zephirin. “That will be all. I would speak with our guest in private.”

The knight’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped up. “But your Emi…” His voice trailed off as the archbishop’s eyes narrowed. Clenching his fists, Zephirin turned his gaze away. “That will be all, men.” He glanced at Aymeric. “Yourself included.”

“He can wait,” Thordan said. 

Now the knight looked like he might collapse on the spot. “I cannot leave you alone with…”

“If we cannot trust our Lord Commander then our city has long been doomed,” Thordan snapped. “Now go.”

Finally, with one last glare in her direction, Zephirin and the other knights left, leaving her and Aymeric alone. She glanced at him, confused. But he merely returned it with a small shrug and said nothing. “You must forgive him,” the archbishop said. “His heart is in the right place, but his zeal is often misguided.”

Z’iyanna resisted the urge to snort. Instead, she crossed her arms and met his gaze. “I assume you are not accustomed to such privacy often.”

She was pleased to see the remnants of a smile. “A man in my position does not often obtain such a luxury, though I’m certain you would understand such things.” His eyes drifted to Aymeric, then back to her. “I am fully aware that this partnership has already borne fruit, correct?”

She hesitated. What did he know? She prayed the trip to Gridania had gone unnoticed, but she wouldn't be surprised if one of the knights had spilled everything the moment they got the chance. “Our visit to the Sea of Clouds was… interesting,” She said carefully. “It seems the beast tribe there has already summoned a primal.”

The archbishop nodded. “I had heard such rumors. Do you think it will pose a problem?”

“Not at the moment,” She said. “I will need a lot more time and quite a few more men before I can take it down. It’s more of a hindrance to the tribe itself if anything.” Her arms tightened against her chest as she tried not to shudder. Memories of the chilling breeze had already haunted one of her dreams. She wasn’t about to let it ruin her days too. “I doubt it will come this way if that is your concern.”

“Very well,” The archbishop said. “Then I will leave it to you to discern the next course of action.” He glanced at Aymeric. “Ser Ausuleix is doing well in your absence, and I have no doubt you will be taking an… extended leave soon.”

Aymeric’s expression didn’t change. “Why is that, your eminence?”

“There are rumors of another primal in the Dravanian Forelands,” The archbishop said. “And I would like you two to see to it.”

“How much do you know?” Z’iyanna said. 

“Not much,” He said. “Our knowledge of the region is not as detailed as we would like it to be. That is why I wish to send the both of you.” He nodded to Aymeric. “So go make the arrangements. I will send our guest after you shortly.”

Aymeric glanced at her, but Z’iyanna just nodded. He relaxed somewhat. “As you wish, your eminence.” With that, he departed, and Z’iyanna was keenly aware that the archbishop’s eyes were fully trained on her. 

“What can I assist you with?” She said. 

“Tell me, young lady,” He began. “What do you know of the Ascians?”

She froze, eyes wide. The archbishop continued in her silence. “Much and more, I shouldn’t wonder, being the Bringer of Light. But you must know that I myself have met with them.”

“What?” She said. “But…”

“Fear not,” He continued. “I am more than aware of what those harbingers of chaos are.”

“What did they want?”

“They offered us power, that we might continue our war against the dragons.”

A war she was hoping to somehow end. “And?”

“I entertained them,” He said. “I have no intention of falling to their schemes, nor do I wish to become a pawn. Were I to refuse them outright, I should learn naught of their true intentions and would remain powerless to stop them.” He sat up just a bit straighter. “I hope we can continue to work together, Warrior of Light, to stop whatever objective they currently pursue. I fear that peace itself may be on the line.”

She relaxed, relieved. “As you said, the Ascians love to sow chaos wherever they go. You are very wise to ignore their callings.” 

“I will send word if they approach me again,” Thordan said. “Now, I request that you take good care of our Lord Commander while you are away.”

It took everything she had not to narrow her eyes. That didn’t feel genuine in the slightest. But why else would he send Aymeric after a primal? Surely the archbishop knew what they could do. “I will,” She said with as much cheer as she could muster. “Thank you for inviting me. I hope we can continue this partnership.”

The archbishop nodded. “There is naught in this world the Ascians fear more than the power of the Warrior of Light.”

Z’iyanna couldn’t help but smile. “Good.” But it faded as quickly as it came. “Tell me, Archbishop, do you worry about another dragon assault?”

He was silent for a moment. "The sooner we end this war, the better it is for everyone."

"But would you accept peace?"

"If Nidhogg were to attack the city, I do not believe any of us would survive it." 

"That's not what I asked."

"I will do whatever is necessary to end this war," the archbishop said. And while Z'iyanna wasn't particularly convinced, she nodded anyway and left. 

* * *

After a few hours in his office debating on what exactly he was meant to do against a primal, Aymeric sought out the company of Haurchefant. Aymeric knew full well that his friend would accompany them to the Forelands. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Lady Z’iyanna already waiting at the Foretemps’ home with a distracted looking Alphinaud hovering nearby. Aymeric was, however, surprised to see his Moogle friend speaking to the three of them. This time, she was dressed in a small white mage robe with a brand new, metal staff that looked like a mini version of the archbishop’s cane. 

Aymeric was impressed at whoever’s ingenuity had managed to come up with that. 

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said. 

Z’iyanna shook her head. “It seems the archbishop is content with this… partnership as you will.” Her eyes closed for a brief moment. “Unfortunately, that puts you in much more danger than I had intended.” She looked toward him. “How long will it take you to prepare for our trip to the Forelands?”

“Not long,” Aymeric said. “As you said, the archbishop is content with our partnership. He is making it extremely easy for me to leave at any time.”

Z’iyanna glanced at Alphinaud who nodded. “We have a plan, Ser Aymeric, but it will put you in a compromising position should you one day return to your post. But we also believe it will be more suspicious if we leave without you.”

Aymeric had a feeling something like this would happen eventually. “The archbishop has already put me in a compromising position,” Aymeric said. “But I do not believe he would purposefully disrupt Ishgard to have me removed.”

Z’iyanna raised an eyebrow. “He’s sending you to fight a primal.”

“But then he could blame the primal,” Aymeric said. 

“He may as well just stab you himself.”

“He will be safe,” Haurchefant said. “It is the other part of the plan that is the problem, is it not?”

The second time she looked at him, her gaze was hard. Aymeric immediately understood how anyone - friend and foe alike - could be intimidated by such a stare. “We intend to speak to someone very… important.” She said. “But it is your reputation on the line.”

“Tell me,” Aymeric said. “It would do us no good to keep secrets.”

Z’iyanna sighed. He could almost imagine the storm going through her mind, even if he didn’t know what the plan was. “We have decided that our goal here is to stop Nidhogg and end the war.”

“A worthy goal,” Aymeric said. “But how would that tarnish my own reputation?”

“We’re seeking to parlay with them,” Alphinaud said. “Through Lady Iceheart.”

 _Oh._ “The heretics,” He said lamely as if it actually mattered. What did the Warrior of Light care of heretics and men? Why did _he_ care? These people used to be his own. They left because they believed there was nothing better for them here. They had their reasons to fight, just as everyone else did. But consorting with them… “That would be a way to remove me,” He said simply. 

“Our idea as that nobody has to know,” Z’iyanna said. “If we meet with Iceheart and go straight to the Forelands, there’s a large chance that no one will be able to report back.”

“There are knights in the Forelands,” Haurchefant said. 

“Then we avoid the people and head straight for the dragons,” Z’iyanna said. “Even without Iceheart, we have Twintania.”

Aymeric had never heard that name before, but he didn’t bother asking now. “This is going to be a long journey then.”

“Estinien will be accompanying us,” Alphinaud said. “Just in case our parlay with Nidhogg does not go as planned.” 

“But what about me, kupo?” Puklia said. 

Z’iyanna smiled as she reached out and patted the Moogle’s head. Puklia gasped but didn’t pull away. “We could always use more healers.”

The Moogle’s pom lit up. “So I can come, kupo?”

“As long as the others are in agreement.”

“I see no reason to deny her,” Haurchefant said. “But you must be careful, Puklia. Our adventures are not always safe ones.”

“I can take care of myself, kupo,” Puklia said. “I promise!”

“Then its settled,” Z’iyanna rose from her seat. “Alphinaud and I will work out the details. Estinien and I will meet with Iceheart and the rest will head to the Forelands.”

Aymeric spoke before his mind processed what he was going to say. “I wish to accompany you as well.”

Z’iyanna’s eyebrow shot up as she crossed her arms. “Wasn’t the point to keep you _away_ from the heretics? Or anything, for that matter. I can’t protect you if you keep walking headfirst into danger.”

“If Iceheart is to accompany us, then I assume that would be impossible,” Aymeric said. “And I…” He trailed off, letting his thoughts catch up. What _was_ he thinking? He should go with the others. Stay safe in the Forelands. Let Z’iyanna do her thing and return home when she did. And yet, he found himself… dissatisfied with the idea. He hated the thought of abandoning her for his own safety. He was the Lord Commander. He shouldn’t be a detriment. Especially not to the Warrior of Light. So, after a moment of silence, he spoke again. “I recognize that my own ignorance of the world may be a detriment to your cause. If I am to alleviate that, then I must accompany you at any opportunity.”

“It’s a risk,” Haurchefant said. “But you’re not wrong, Lord Commander.”

“Aymeric,” he said with a small smile. “For we are all equals under the Warrior of Light.”

Z’iyanna chuckled. “That is a strange attempt at flattery, Ser.”

Aymeric blinked. “I was being honest.”

She shook her head. “Then I expect you to call me Z’iyanna. Nothing more and nothing less.” She glanced at Haurchefant. “Menphina knows I can’t get this man to do it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Haurchefant said. “We will all leave by sunrise.”


	14. In Search of Iceheart

_“She enters the Akh Afah Amphitheatre, and soon crosses paths with its heretical occupants…”_

_-Sounding Out the Amphitheatre_

\-----------------

Whether it was nerves or excitement, Z’iyanna was up before the sun rose. And, after a quick meeting with Haurchefant, she decided to sneak through Ishgard straight to the Lord Commander’s home. She knew from her travels that a Postmoogle wandered between all of the estates, delivering the mail before anyone could possibly see him or the floating letters he might be carrying. She was certain Y’mithra would have written by now and, if she was really lucky, Aymeric would already be awake. 

It was a longshot, but she had to know as much as possible before they left. 

She found the Moogle hovering on the edge of Aymeric’s estate, letter in hand. “Z’iyanna!” He said with a wave. “I have a letter for you!”

“You know I’m living with the Foretemps, right?”

He huffed. “I was getting there.” He handed her the letter before darting away. Z’iyanna shook her head as she ripped it open. 

_Z’iyanna,_

_After my preliminary tests and with the information you’ve given me, I can say with the utmost certainty that something has changed the Lord Commander’s aether. Not only is it denser than I expected, but it bears a striking similarity to your own. I’m afraid I do not know what exactly that means for him, but I promise I will continue with my own research until I have more answers for you. For now, I have left him with the task of summoning his own carbuncle, and I expect results soon._

_I do, however, recommend you speak to him as soon as possible. It seems he knows more about your past than he should._

_Sincerely,_

_Y’mithra_

“More about my past…” She murmured as she looked up at the Borel Manor. Hadn’t Haurchefant mentioned something similar? _He saw my memories._ Of that she was certain. Bahamut. Garuda. He connected to her aether somehow, but she wasn’t certain if that had given him his own Echo, or if his aether was simply distorted. 

“My Lady?”

She flinched at the manservant’s voice, unaware she’d been staring. “Is Ser Aymeric awake?” She said. “I need to speak with him.”

The manservant nodded. “Make yourself comfortable. He’ll be out shortly.”

* * *

Aymeric was only mildly surprised to find Z’iyanna in his living room. He was, however, a tad worried when he saw that nervous look in her eyes. Was she twitching? He wasn’t certain. She was leaning back, legs crossed, and as relaxed as possible. Except her fingers were tapping against the armrest with astounding speed. When her eyes fell on him, she jumped to her feet. “Good morning, Lord Commander,” She said. “I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep.”

Aymeric waved Clifort off and gestured back to the couch. “It’s alright. I had too much on my mind to rest well.”

She nodded in understanding as she sat back down. “Are we able to talk in private?”

“Clifort will not bother us,” Aymeric said as he found his own seat. 

“And you trust he won’t listen in?”

Aymeric nodded. “He’s one of the few that I do.”

A silent moment passed between them, but her eyes didn’t leave his own. It was unsettling in a way how easily she kept his gaze. In some ways, it was even more intimidating than being stared down by the Archbishop. “Is everything alright?” He said. 

“Just thinking of where to start,” She said as she lay a letter on his coffee table. “Y’mithra’s letter arrived today and her findings were… somewhat inconclusive.”

“In what way?”

“We don’t really know what’s happening to you,” She said. “At this point, we’re both just guessing. However,” She paused again. “She confirmed what I already knew; your aether and mine are now extraordinarily similar. And while I’m not sure _how_ or _why_ you were exposed to it in the way you were, there’s no denying it.” She tilted her head ever so slightly. “You now have some version of the Echo.” 

“Haurchefant mentioned it, but he didn’t go into detail.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” She said. “Even I don’t fully understand it. But what I can say is that your ability to see my memories is something that I’ve experienced many times before. It usually comes on without warning, and I’m often left paralyzed until it’s done.” When she looked away, her gaze lingered on the fire. “I also see my own potential futures, but that’s a story for another day.” 

“And you think I have this… power now?”

“I think you have something,” She said. “But I need more time, and you need more practice.” She crumpled the letter and tossed it into the blaze. “Have you managed to summon a carbuncle yet?”

“I haven’t had the chance to try,”

“Alphinaud may be able to help you,” She said. “I, unfortunately, am apparently incapable of summoning in that manner.”

That was a surprise. “But you channeled Garuda’s aether… did you not?”

“That is not the same as summoning,” She said. “Trust me. I’ve tried.” She sighed as her arms rested on her knees. “But I need to know something.”

“Of course,”

When her gaze met his, he swore he saw a flicker of purple that slipped away as fast as it came. “Did you see a dragon?”

Slowly, he nodded. “It was _him,_ wasn’t it.”

Her eyes almost seemed to glaze over. “What I’m about to tell you cannot be shared with anyone else, understand?”

“I would never betray your trust.”

“I’ve fought him before,” She whispered. “And I won… kind of.”

“Kind of?”

She pressed her hand to her heart. “He’s here, Aymeric. With me. And some of his aether is now within you.”

Aymeric swore his heart stopped as he sucked in a sharp breath. The great dreadwyrm in her? And its power was now shared with him? If anyone found out… if the archbishop knew… there’d be a riot in the streets. The chaos would be astronomical. Would it have been better to keep him in the dark? _No,_ he decided. He needed to know if he had any hope of controlling it. “Does that… worry you?” He said. 

“I don’t know.” 

A knock at the door cut their conversation short. “My Lord?” Clifort said. “Ser Estinien is here.”

Z’iyanna swore under her breath. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

“Convenient that he guessed you were here.”

“Or he’s about to find out,” She rose from her seat as Thyrus appeared on her back. “I don’t tell you this to cause a panic. But I couldn’t keep it from you either. Not something this important. Just… be careful. I’ll try to help you as much as I can.”

Aymeric rose and reached for his sword. “I’ll do what I must.”

* * *

It was cold in the Highlands as Estinien, Aymeric, and Z’iyanna prepared their signal fire. Alphinaud had been the brains of the operation, using his surprising knowledge of plant life and Z’iyanna’s ability to quickly murder the local wildlife to mix together a concoction that would alert everyone in a wide radius to their location. They had already spoken with the knights in the area, prepared with a lie that they were meeting with one of Z’iyanna’s friends in the winter wasteland. How any of them believed it was beyond her, but she assumed none of them would dare cast doubt on a party consisting of the Azure Dragoon, the Lord Commander, and the Warrior of Light. 

“It doesn’t matter if she comes or if her men do,” Z’iyanna said as she finished lighting the fire. “She told me how to find her.”

“Do you think she’d talk to all three of us?” Aymeric said. 

“I think she won’t have much of a choice,” Estinien said. 

“As long as Mr. Brooding over here doesn’t scare her off we won’t have a problem,” Z’iyanna stood back as Estinien tossed the yak hides into the fire. The smoke turned a dark purple, piercing the light fog as it rose far into the sky. Z’iyanna watched it for a moment, wondering who exactly would respond to it. They hadn’t found any heretics yet, even after checking the Amphitheatre. They were far enough out in the highlands that no knight would dare come on their own. Z’iyanna was certain the heretics would come. She just hoped their meeting could be as peaceful as Alphinaud had said. 

After a few minutes of silence, in which Z’iyanna stoked the flames, the heretics emerged. Men and women, mages and knights, and Elezens of all kinds surrounded them. Each one was tense, and Z’iyanna didn’t blame them. “What are you doing?” One of the women said, brandishing her staff. The others followed suit and soon the entire circle was prepared for a fight. 

Z’iyanna took a step away from the fire as Estinien crossed his arms. “We need to speak to your mistress,” He said. 

“You think we would dare introduce any of you to our saint?” The woman spat. A murmur of agreement came up from the crowd. “We would never risk her life so callously.”

“It seems our reputation precedes us,” Estinien said. 

“We’re not looking for a fight,” Z’iyanna said. “And I suggest you stand down.”

“And yet you threaten us.”

Z’iyanna snorted. “If you think that was a threat then I suggest you get a spine.”

A couple of the men shouted in anger. A few of the women glanced between each other, uncertain. The speaker’s face twisted in rage. “You will not make it out of here alive.” The circle took a step closer. Aymeric reached for his sword. Estinien sighed in disdain as he grabbed his lance. 

But Z’iyanna raised her hand and shook her head. “Let me take care of this.”

“Are you mad?” Estinien said. 

_Show them what you took from me,_ Ysayle had said. Z’iyanna clicked the bracelet into place, watching as the crystal glowed a bright blue. The snow flurried up around her, turning to ice as it gathered in her hand. The circle’s bloodthirst turned to confusion, a few taking a long step back. A bow of ice appeared in her hand with numerous arrows of ice. She pulled back the strings, taking aim at the speaker. 

“That’s enough.”

Everyone’s gaze snapped to the voice as Ysayle stepped out from the snow. “There is no need for that,” She said as she made her way into the circle. “You’ve proven your point.”

“Lady Iceheart,” The speaker said. 

“Leave,” Ysayle said. “I shall speak with them alone.” 

Z’iyanna was shocked at how quickly the heretics retreated. Her own comrades would _never_ have agreed to such a thing, and she was the Warrior of Light. But Ysayle’s own people were gone within a few minutes, retreating back to wherever they had come from without a single complaint. Ysayle looked between them before her gaze fell back on Z’iyanna. “I knew immediately it was you, but my people are quick to defend me. Now,” She crossed her arms. “What are you here for?”

“We wish to speak with Nidhogg,” Z’iyanna said. “If you think that’s possible.”

Ysayle shook her head. “Impossible. Nidhogg will never speak with you.”

“I figured as much,” Z’iyanna said. “He’s probably not too happy about losing an eye.”

Ysayle’s eyebrow shot up. “You know about that?”

“We have it, Iceheart,” Estinien said. 

Surprise flashed in her features, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Then you should know that he will not rest until he pries it from the hands of his betrayer’s progeny.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Estinien said. “Nidhogg has stopped pursuing the eye and is now turning his fury onto Ishgard.” He reached to his side and listed the eye carefully hidden behind his armor. “Until recently, Nidhogg seemed unable to resist its allure and pursued me relentlessly. Now, it would seem he has fixed his attention on Ishgard itself, though he knows full well the Eye does not reside there.” 

“If he attacks the city now, there would be nothing short of devastation,” Aymeric said. 

Estinien tucked the eye away. “Then we must destroy the beast before he has the chance.”

“Is there any other dragon we can speak with?” Aymeric said. “One that might listen to our notions of peace?”

Ysayle nodded. “Hraesvelgr.”

“You think he’d speak to us?” Z’iyanna said. 

Her gaze rose to the sky. “We will cross the home of the dragons, then climb the mountain to his home in the sky.”

The three exchanged looks. They had no reason to doubt her, but Z’iyanna could tell from the look on Aymeric’s face and the general lack of emotion on Estinien’s that neither actually knew what she was talking about. “How do we get there?”

“I will show you,” Ysayle said. 

“Then we shall meet with our allies in the Forelands,” Aymeric said. 

“I must admit,” Ysayle said as she glanced his way. “I am surprised to see the Lord Commander this far from home.”

“The situation called for me to accompany the Warrior of Light on her quest,” Aymeric said simply. “And I intend to do so until I am called home.”

That was a diplomatic way of putting it, though Z’iyanna wasn’t certain he would ever be called home. Regardless, she respected his acceptance of the situation, despite the risk to his own life. There were certainly worse people in the world to share her adventures with. She just hoped she didn’t let him down. “We should go, then,” She said. “The others will likely be…” 

A pulse shot through her heart. She flinched, reaching for her chest. The gem on her bracelet glowed a bright blue, and she could imagine a much larger one appearing in her mind. A piece of Hydalen’s blessing? That’s what the crystals had always represented. Why would Midgar let her access it now? 

_“A small shred of power is not a blessing,”_ The dragon said. _“But… it is curious. The vestiges of thy mistress’s power are not as faint as once they were. But will it be enough?”_

She heard Aymeric hiss beside her, reaching for his own chest. But when she looked up, Estinien and Ysayle were already walking away, as if they hadn’t noticed a thing. “Are you alright, Aymeric?” She said quietly as the pain fled her body. 

He took a shaky breath before standing tall. “I’m fine,” He said. “Just a momentary annoyance.”

“Did you see anything?”

“A flash of blue,” He said. “Nothing more.”

Z’iyanna frowned. _What’s happening to him, Midgar?_

But her question was met with only the sound of the wind. 


	15. The Trine Towers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking such a long time between chapters. I'm working on my original novel for NaNoWriMo, so I've been working a lot on that over the last few weeks. But this and P4 are my last two open stories, so chapters will resume at a steady pace closer to the end of November ^^

Alphinaud wasn’t expecting much fanfare upon arrival, but even he was surprised at how little hunters of Tailfeather cared about outsiders. Most were quite forthcoming, especially with Haurchefant there to ask most of the questions. Puklia stayed hidden, listening in on other conversations around them. Alphinaud was the one to ask the harder questions. 

“How is your relationship with the dragons?”

This particular man was the most confident of the hunters they had spoken with so far. Alphinaud guessed he might be a leader, but he’d never given a name and they’d never asked. “We don’t bother them, and they don’t bother us,” The man said. “The Gnath are more worrisome, as they’ve been known to steal supplies or even kidnap some of our hunters who overstep whatever boundaries they’ve decided is theirs.” 

Another beast tribe then. “Are there any friendly Gnath that you know of.”

“I’ve heard there’s a small tribe close to Anyx Trine, but we don’t trade with them,” the man said. “The last thing we need is to risk more lives on a hunch.”

“I understand,” Alphinaud said. “Thank you for the information.”

“What’s your plan?”

Alphinaud hesitated. “We’ve been asked to investigate allegations that the Gnath have summoned a primal.”

The man’s eyebrow raised. “A primal?”

“You haven’t heard anything unusual?”

“Nothing more than I usually do.”

Alphinaud bowed just slightly. “Thank you for your help. We’ll inform you if there is anything to worry about.”

Then, they left Tailfeather, waiting just outside the entrance from the Western Highlands; far enough away that nobody would hear them. “Maybe we’ve gotten lucky,” Alphinaud said. “If no one has heard of a primal…”

“I’m not surprised,” Haurchefant said. “Most Ishgardians had never heard of a primal before Lady Z’iyanna defeated Shiva.”

“Why do you call her that?”

A flash of confusion crossed the older Elezen’s face. “What do you mean?”

“ _ Lady  _ Z’iyanna,” Alphinaud said. “She’s asked you numerous times to stop calling her that.” 

“Only in jest.”

“It doesn’t sound in jest.”

“I respect her,” Haurchefant said with a light shrug. “And she deserves it.”

“But you’re close friends now, are you not?” Alphinaud said. “If you can call Aymeric his name without a title, surely you can call Z’iyanna without one.”

“I never agreed to call Ser Aymeric by only his first name,” Haurchefant said. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“I prefer to keep things as normal as possible.”

“So what will you do when you give her that ring?”

Haurchefant’s lips tightened into a thin line, but Alphinaud could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “So you’ve guessed my intentions.”

Alphinaud shrugged as he leaned against a tree. “I may not know you as well as Z’iyanna does - a faux pas on my part - but I cannot imagine any other women you would give such a gift to.” He tilted his head. “Does it mean the same in Isghard that it does elsewhere?”

“Aye,” Haurchefant said. “But now is not the time.”

“She would accept it.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,”

“Then why…?”

A roar cut him off. He bolted from the tree and spun around as a large, blue and red dragon slammed down in front of them, practically running Haurchefant over. She growled in what could have been words, but Alphinaud didn’t have a clue what she could be saying. “Twintania,” Haurchefant said, “Lady Z’iyanna is on her way.” Another series of growls rumbled from deep in the dragon’s throat. “She’s fine,” Haurchefant said. “And excited to see you.”

But Alphinaud could only stare. “This dragon is… a companion?”

“Of course,” Haurchefant said. “It seems you’ve never been around when Z’iyanna needed her assistance.”

“And you  _ understand  _ her?”

Haurchefant shook his head. “I just make very good educated guesses.”

“Twintania!”

Z’iyanna ran from the cave and wrapped her arms around the base of Twintania’s neck. The dragon rumbled in what could have been a purr, followed by more angry growls. “I came as soon as I could,” She said. “What are you doing out here?” 

“By the Fury,” Aymeric said, eyes wide. Estinien stopped beside him, arms crossed with a very noticeable frown on his face. The last woman, however, was someone Alphinaud had never seen. But she looked just as surprised as Aymeric. “This dragon… is yours!?”

Z’iyanna blushed. “I hoped I had a little more time before introducing you.”

“To be fair,” Alphinaud said trying to hide the bitterness in his tone. “I was unaware of this dragon either.”

“Her name is Twintania,” Z’iyanna said. “She’s been a close companion for a few years now.” She fondly patted the dragon’s neck. “Where are we going next, Ysayle?”

“Anyx Trine,” The woman - Ysayle - said. “We must meet with Vidofnir.”

Twintania growled as she nearly knocked Z’iyanna over. “You’ve met her?” Z’iyanna whispered. “Then by all means… I’d love an introduction.” Another growl. Z’iyanna said. “She demands that I fly with her there myself.” 

“You have the means to speak with this beast?” Estinien said. 

She glared at him. “She is my friend.” She held up her arm and, for the first time, Alphinaud noticed she had a small, light blue bracelet with gold around the outside.  _ No wonder,  _ he thought. It hid perfectly under her primal aether band. “And I have her key,” Twintania grumbled, but Z’iyanna didn’t bother to translate. “So I expect you all to get along.”

“The rest of us can borrow some Chocobos nearby,” Haurchefant said. “I’ve been told they’re smart enough to return to this camp once we’re done.”

Z’iyanna hopped onto Twintania’s back. “She can carry one more,” She said. 

“Ser Aymeric should go,” Estinien said. “I’m not letting Iceheart out of my sight.”

Ysayle’s eyes narrowed. “The dragons may not listen to anyone but me.”

Aymeric’s stunned expression only got worse. “You want  _ me  _ to fly on a  _ dragon _ ?”

“Maybe Haurchefant should go,” Alphinaud said. “It’s clear that Twintania has some experience with him.” The dragon’s head curved in his direction and she snarled. Alphinaud took a long step back. “I just assumed you did.”

“She does,” Z’iyanna said. “She’s just being stubborn.” 

“We shouldn’t waste any more time,” Estinien said. “You go with her. We’ll take care of the rest.”

* * *

Aymeric didn’t want to admit that there was a lot on his mind. He’d already endured the questioning stares from Alphinaud and the constant check-ins from Haurchefant. He’d already grown wary of Z’iyanna’s worried stare that seemed to be reserved only for him. And Aymeric knew he couldn’t tell anyone what she had told him.  _ Some of his aether is now within you.  _ The words crossed his mind over and over again, along with the million things that could go wrong if anyone else in Ishgard found out. Spending time with Ysayle was the least of his concerns. A piece of a dragon was now harbored with him, and nobody knew how to get rid of it. 

It didn’t help that he’d had near-constant nightmares since that first memory he’d stolen from Z’iyanna. Some of them were slight and only lasted a few minutes. Some trapped him in his own body until morning came and it could no longer hold him. Dreams of fire, dragons, and a battle he couldn’t possibly have seen. Nightmares of chains, hatred, and despair so palpable Aymeric might have thought it his own. 

He had yet to tell Z’iyanna that part, for he didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t want her to blame herself, nor did he want to distract from their missions. Though he didn’t know what he would do the first night they slept out here, away from it all. Everyone would know then, but what could he do? He had to rest, however brief and tormented it was. He supposed he was lucky that he was more of an observer than a participant. Z’iyanna didn’t need his physical prowess on the battlefield, as little as it must seem. She was a babysitter more than anything, a thought that plagued him more than he cared to admit. 

He wanted to be useful, but a burden was all he felt like. 

A gust of wind broke him from his thoughts. He looked up, surprised to see that the rest of his companions were a great distance away. He could hear the murmurs of their voices echoing back at him, but none seemed to have noticed his slow crawl. He moved to rectify that, reaching for the Chocobo’s reins. 

_ “Help.”  _

__ He stopped short, eyes scanning the trees around him. A voice moaned from within.  _ “Help.”  _ Aymeric glanced at his group. He could catch up with them later. The Chocobo knew where Anyx Trine was. And, if not, it was an easy trip back to Tailfeather to ask. But he couldn’t leave this someone here to die. Even far away from home, his knight training was on the forefront of his mind.  _ We never abandon those who need us the most. _

He slid off the back of his Chocobo, asking quietly for it to stay. The bird looked at him like he was crazy, but didn’t move as Aymeric slipped into the trees. “Is someone out there?” He yelled. All was quiet for a moment, followed by a low growl. 

_ “Human…” _

Aymeric spun around, shocked to see not a hunter as he’d expected, but a  _ dragon.  _ Its scales were dark green with yellow highlights and it easily towered over him. But there were spears in its side and blood pooled around its stomach. Aymeric approached carefully, hand extended. “I’m just here to help.”

The dragon laughed.  _ “A human thinks he can help me.”  _

Aymeric frowned. He’d never heard a dragon speak before, though he had heard rumors that they could make anyone understand them if they wanted. He had a feeling from the look on this dragon’s face that he wasn’t doing that. "What do you need me to do." 

The dragon's eyes snapped to his.  _ "You shouldn't be able to understand me." _

"I figured as much," Aymeric said. 

The dragon's eyes narrowed.  _ "A son of man who can understand me like this… something within you is twisted."  _

Aymeric tried not to flinch. He wasn't very successful. "Just tell me what to…" He trailed off as an obsessive clicking noise rose up around them. 

_ "Gnath,"  _ The dragon growled _.  _

Aymeric's blood ran cold. Alphinaud had mentioned them before they left.  _ We must avoid them at all costs.  _ And here he was. By himself with an injured dragon. He knew he could be running. Abandon the dragon and rush back to the group. But Aymeric knew he'd be condemning this creature to death if he did. Maybe… 

"If there's something ai can do you must tell me," He said. 

The dragon regarded him for a moment. Then sighed and said.  _ "Pull out this spear."  _

Aymeric nodded and reached for it. It was much smaller than one he'd used before, but long enough. He wasn't sure how deep it was, but he pulled anyway. The dragon groaned as its head hit the ground. Aymeric hesitated until the dragon snapped  _ "Just do it!"  _

Aymeric yanked on it as hard as he could. The spear tore from the dragon's flesh. It howled as blood pooled at Aymeric's feet, but it was far less than he thought it would be. "Go!" Aymeric said. The clicking got louder. The dragon forces itself to its feet spreading its wings. Aymeric moved toward his Chocobo, only to find ut surrounded by small, insect-men with heavy shells on their heads and mandibles for faces. The Chocobo fought back, knocking down two before bolting for Tailfeather. 

_ "I will send help, son of man."  _

Then, the dragon took off, leaving him to face down over a dozen Gnath alone. 

* * *

Z'iyanna was always impressed by dragon ingenuity. While the Trine Towers were dilapidated and slowly falling apart, she could imagine the glory of what once was. It was a shame the war had torn so much of their home - and the Ishgardian's home, for that matter - as Z'iyanna thought both had genuine potential to be so much better than they currently were. 

Maybe if she stopped Nidhogg, she’d get to see it for herself. 

Twintania flew in from a hole in the side, landing on the second floor of the tower. Before them was a gray and white dragon lying on her stomach with her front paws stretched out in front of her. Two large, gray horns curved backward from the top of her head and her angular face and sharp teeth were more intimidating than Z’iyanna expected. Gray spines rose off from the middle of her back all the way down to the top of her tail. And Z’iyanna could feel Twintania’s own respect for the dragon as Z’iyanna and Haurchefant slid off her back. “ Vidofnir?” Z’iyanna said. 

Her beady red eyes narrowed.  _ “You are a friend of Twintania?” _

_ “She is the Warrior of Light,”  _ Twintania said with more pride than Z’iyanna had ever heard before. 

“The rest of our companions are on their way,” Z’iyanna said. “Ysayle told me to seek you ou.” 

The dragon hummed.  _ “What is it you ask of me?”  _

“We seek council with Hraesvelgr to try and stop Nidhogg’s.”

_ “Thou wouldst have Father admonish his brood-brother?”  _

Father? Ysayle hadn’t mentioned that. “We’re searching for a way to end the war,” She said. “And this is the only way we know of.” 

“How am I to believe thee… when I sense Nidhogg’s stolen eye among thy’s companions?”

_ Estnien.  _ They were close then. Z’iyanna was impressed Vidofnir could sense that from here. She was suddenly glad the man himself wasn’t here yet. She could only imagine what nonsense he would say.  _ Be careful, or I’ll gouge out one of yours.  _ “I cannot speak for him,” Z’iyanna said. “He believes that keeping the eye is the only way to stop Nidhogg for now.”

The dragon hummed again.  _ “Your companions are close.”  _ She tilted her head.  _ “With the Little One.”  _

“Ysayle.” 

_ “Yes.”  _ She rose and moved to the hole in the wall. “ _ Come.”  _ She flew from the window and crashed down in front of the rest of Z’iyanna’s group. She hesitated, glancing back at Haurchefant. 

“I have a feeling she needs more from us.”

“Very few give their help without something in return.” 

Z’iyanna sighed as she hopped back on Twintania’s back. Haurchefant joined her, and she blushed as he moved up against her own body. She would have to make a double saddle at some point or risk melting from pure embarrassment. “Hold on,” She muttered, but Twintania was already airborne, arching downward in a much more gentle slope than Vidofnir. As they landed, she heard the end of Ysayle’s speech. “... we must be allowed to convey our intentions to Hraesvelgr in person, with words of our own choosing. Grant us favor and open the way to Sohm Al!”

_ “She is daring,”  _ Twintania said.  _ “In my few months here, even I have not been given access to such a sacred place.”  _

Vidofnir paused for a long moment.  _ “You are always welcome, Little One. But I cannot grant thy wish. I am bound to remain here, and protect my king from the Gnath’s god.” _

“A primal,” Z’iyanna whispered. So it was true then. The Gnath had summoned a primal. Alphinaud glanced up at her, and both nodded. “I can handle this so-called god,” Z’iyanna said. “And if I do, will you…” She trailed off. “Where is Aymeric?”

Alphinaud’s eyes widened in surprise as Estinien spun around. “Impossible!” Alphinaud said. “He was right behind us!”

A second roar pulled their attention. A green dragon practically fell out of the sky, landing hard beside Vidofnir.  _ “The Gnath,”  _ He said.  _ “They have captured a human. “ _

“Aymeric…” Z’iyanna whispered. 

_ He saved my life,”  _ The dragon said.  _ “But I’m afraid I couldn’t save him.” _

“Don’t tell me,” Alphinaud said.

_ “He is alive,”  _ The dragon said.  _ “But the Gnath have taken him to their domain.”  _

A million curses would not be enough to express how Z’iyanna felt right at that moment. “We have to find him.  _ Now.”  _

Ysayle nodded. “We will fight this creature, Vidofnir, and return victorious.”

  
“ _ ‘Tis beyond thee, mortal,”  _ She said. “ _ But thou art welcome to try… it seems the life of thy’s companion is at stake.”  _


End file.
